Fic: A History of Heaven (Gabriel, PG-13 for this chapter) Michael and Sammael’s Interlude
For full notes and other chapters, please see the Masterpost.
Notes: Sammael = Lucifer
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Chapter word count: 2,816
Chapter Summary: I was scared too, when Father first displayed His wrath, Michael once told his brothers. There’s a story there…
This is the third Interlude chapter, set when the Archangels were kids themselves. Michael is roughly equivalent to an older teenager here, about 16, while Sammael is closer to 4.
MICHAEL AND SAMMAEL’S INTERLUDE
“I'm bored, Michael!” The pudgy little fledgling angel hung off his older brother's wings, swinging himself between them. “Play with me!”
Michael fought the urge to twitch his wings and shake his baby brother loose. When Father had first made Sammael, first presented Michael with this little angel He had dubbed 'your perfect companion,' Michael had been overjoyed. He no longer had to stand alone in the Void against the shadow-creatures God called Leviathan. He no longer had to fight and run and hide, always watching his back, his front, his sides. He no longer had to curl up alone, smothering his grace to mask his light when he was injured, huddled in on himself and praying he wouldn't be noticed, that he would be allowed to heal unmolested. With Sammael came a second set of eyes and a second dose of grace. Together, they shone bright enough to blind the Leviathan and keep the monsters at bay.
Sammael also brought simple companionship to Michael. He talked, oh, he talked a lot, talked about everything he saw and everything he felt and everything he imagined. He talked as Michael taught him how to move his wings to fly, and he talked as Michael taught him how to wield his sword to fight, and he talked as he curled up against Michael's chest, floating through the Void.
More than talking, Sammael played. He liked to make Michael chase him, and he liked to duck and weave around Michael's wings, and he liked to make up stories to share with Michael. Sammael was happiest when all attention was on him, and Sammael especially loved Michael’s attention.
Michael shook his wings, jarring Sammael loose. He caught him in one primary wing before Sammael could fall, sweeping him forward to look at his brother. Sammael shrieked with laughter and clapped his hands together, his little wings stirring against Michael’s feathers. “Do that again! Again!”
“Sammael…” Michael plucked his brother off his wing and drew him in close. Sammael squirmed in Michael’s arms, trying to climb over his shoulder to get back into his wings.
“I want to do that again!”
“Sammael!” Michael snapped his brother’s name, struggling not to shake the little angel. “Just calm down!”
Sammael stilled, looking up at Michael with big eyes, twisting his hands together. “Michael’s mad at me?”
“I’m not mad at you.” Michael had lost count of how many times he’d told that to Sammael. All the little angel had to do was stare at him with those big, big eyes, and Michael acquiesced to whatever he wanted.
Sammael gave a cheer at Michael’s reassurance, flinging his arms around Michael’s neck to hug him briefly before scrambling over his shoulder and tumbling back among Michael’s wings.
A fleck of anger flared up within Michael’s spirit. Why did he always have to submit to Sammael’s wishes? Why did his brother get to use him as his personal entertainment? Why didn’t Father ever step in and take care of Sammael? The little angel gave a hard yank on one of Michael’s wings, and the older angel grimaced in pain. Why him?
It shouldn’t have to be him. Sammael was an angel, same as Michael. He had fewer wings, but his grace was brighter than Michael’s had been when he was new. He was young and small, but not as small as Michael had been when he was first left alone.
It shouldn’t have to be him. It didn’t have to be him. Michael growled and flapped his wings, dumping Sammael into the Void. “You stay here,” he ordered Sammael, pointing a finger at the baby angel.
“Michael?” Sammael’s eyes were widening again, but Michael wasn’t having any of it this time.
“Stay!” he demanded, turning away from Sammael’s pleading grace and flying off into the Void.
Sammael didn’t listen. Sammael never listened to him. The little Archangel chased after Michael, his wings flapping as hard and fast as he could push them, but Michael had advantages of size and strength over him. One push of Michael’s wings required a thousand beats of Sammael’s to catch, and Sammael was soon far behind the older angel. Michael curled himself into a ball, folding his wings around him and veiling his grace. Without his light in the Void, Sammael had no way of finding him.
“Michael?”
The baby angel tired quickly, his wings slowing and eventually falling still. “Michael!” His little voice echoed through the darkness, calling to his brother, but Michael didn’t answer. He just wanted some peace. Was that too much to ask? Just a few moments on his own, without a baby tugging on his feathers or chasing after his wings or shattering the blessed silence with the sound of his own voice.
Sammael called after Michael several more times, but then he fell quiet and Michael could finally relax. He could still make out his little brother, far in the distance, a tiny pinprick of light. Father had told him to watch over Sammael. He didn’t say Michael had to be constantly at Sammael’s side.
The older Archangel spread his wings out and stretched in the Void, still keeping himself veiled. He purred to himself in pleasure, closing his eyes and reveling in the silence. This was wonderful. Peace and quiet, safety and darkness.
Something brushed over his spirit, a tickle of shadow. Michael froze, his eyes snapping open. He saw only darkness. Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move! Old habits were rushing back to him, old panic flaring deep within his grace.
The Leviathan were not gone. They avoided the angels, but they still existed in the Void. Michael had forgotten. He had forgotten! He had grown used to the safety he shared with Sammael, had grown lazy and complacent, and now at least one of the Leviathan was curling around his spirit. Its touch was gentle, and it wasn’t really holding Michael, so it wasn’t a threat-yet. Perhaps it didn’t realize Michael was an angel, since he was veiled and dark himself.
Sammael. His little brother was still twinkling in the Void, his bright grace a beacon for all the evil creatures that dwelled in the shadows. Sammael had never experienced an attack from the Leviathan. Michael had taught him how to draw his sword, but Sammael had never needed to use it. Would he even realize the Leviathan were a threat?
Michael needed to get back to Sammael before the Leviathan found him, but he couldn’t move with a Leviathan on him. No matter how much he tried, Michael could never imitate the liquid flow of the shadow monsters. As soon as he moved, it would know he was an angel and would attack.
A scream, high and terrified, reverberated through the Void. Sammael! Michael could feel his brother’s pain lance through his own grace, connected as they were. Michael reacted without thinking, flaring his wings wide and dropping his veil with a shout of his own.
Illuminated by the sudden grace, the Leviathan on Michael’s spirit turned its head, giant mouth splitting open wide and baring hundreds of sharp fangs. Michael lashed out, his sword punching through the creature of shadow, exploding it into thousands of pieces of black goo. Before it had even settled, Michael was flying back toward Sammael as fast as he could, his wings shoving aside the Leviathan as he moved. “Sammael! Sammael, to me!”
Sammael screamed again, wordless, confused, and abruptly cut off into a gurgle. Michael screamed right back, pure panic propelling him forward. “Sammael!“
The tiny angel was hanging limp in the mouth of a Leviathan, four more diving around his body and tearing huge chunks from his wings. Sammael twitched, his eyes fluttering open as Michael dive-bombed the Leviathan, his sword swinging. He reached one hand for his older brother only to have a Leviathan clamp down and tear at his spirit. Sammael twitched again, the light in his eyes fading fast. His grace was shredded, and the Leviathan were feasting on his spirit even as Michael tried to beat them off. For every monster he killed, two more came rushing in, snapping at his own wings. His grace alone wasn’t enough to drive them back, and Sammael’s grace was too weak now to do anything to help.
Michael managed to snatch his brother away from the Leviathan, holding what remained close against his own spirit. Even as he folded a wing around what remained of Sammael’s form, he knew he was too late. His little brother was fading away, his spirit barely glowing against Michael’s.
Light, pure and white, exploded around Michael. The Archangel instinctively curled up, throwing his wings around himself and the frail angel he held. Anger and fury, pure wrath, slammed into the Leviathan, instantly obliterating them. The ones that escaped the immediate destruction were wound up in one giant hand, knotted together and thrown into a hole ripped into the very nothingness of the Void. Before they could swim out, the hole was shut, sealed tightly against escape.
“Father…”
Michael’s weak cry was shoved aside by God as the Lord dealt with the creatures attacking his sons. Michael was shunted aside, ignored. He accepted the rebuff, aware that he had brought this on them by leaving Sammael, and instead turned his attention to his fading brother. “Don’t go, Sammael,” he murmured, reaching up to run his fingers along Sammael’s face. His brother’s wings were all but gone, a full half of his spirit consumed by the Leviathan. He didn’t even open his eyes at Michael’s touch, his remaining arm dangling limply to the side.
“Give him to me.”
Michael looked up sharply at the new voice. It was old and powerful, like his Father’s, but it wasn’t his Father. It was something he had never heard before, something that poured pure cold into the core of his spirit. A dark creature stood before him, not a shadow like the Leviathan, but a being of power, like Father. Instead of being a source of Life, this creature was a source of anti-Life. While Father put life into things, this thing took it out.
“Death,” the being said. “The word you are looking for is death. I am Death, and your brother is dying. Give him to me.”
“No.” Michael tucked Sammael against his chest, lifting his sword and pointing it at the creature, at Death. “No! You can’t have him!”
“You can’t keep him,” Death stated, crowding closer. Michael’s sword, his whole arm, went right through the being without any apparent effect. “He has been marked as one of mine.”
“No!” Michael dropped his sword to hold Sammael with both arms, clutching his brother against him, but Death just reached past his hold, drawing Sammael away. “No!“
STOP.
God’s voice boomed through the gathered beings. Michael immediately locked up at God’s order, though he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of his little brother in Death’s arms. Death turned his shadowed face toward God, tucking Sammael against him.
Michael.
Michael flinched at the sound of his name, wrapping his wings over his head. The Leviathan were gone, but his Father was still angry. Angry at him. “I’m sorry, Father,” he whispered, clenching his hands into fists, cursing his own uselessness. He should have been with Sammael. He should have protected his brother.
For what?
“For failing him. For failing You.”
What did I ask of you?
“Watch over Sammael.” Michael closed his eyes. “Keep him safe.”
Did you?
“No,” Michael whispered.
Why not?
Michael could feel his wings trembling. Father’s anger was a cold wind wrapping around him, ruffling his feathers and setting his grace on edge. How could he explain that he had just wanted to be alone for a moment? That after all God had given him, he had just wanted to get away? What words could describe how exhausting Sammael’s constant presence had been?
Sammael was faded now, silent and still, devoured by the shadows, his empty shell lying limp in Death’s arms. Michael had wanted freedom from Sammael, and now he had it. Sammael would never laugh with him again, never curl tiny fingers around his hand, never snuggle into his wings and sing. Michael wrapped his arms around his chest, immeasurable sadness filling his core. “I didn’t want it forever!”
It wasn’t an answer to Father’s question, and Michael knew it. He could feel his Father’s wrath pressing down on him, a thousand pins driving into his spirit, piercing through his grace as if it wasn’t even there. Father’s fury sliced through his wings and speared his arms, drove into his mind and dragged his grief out, exposing his innermost thoughts to the universe. Death watched dispassionately, and Sammael did nothing. He’d never do anything again. “I wanted… I wanted him to stop.” Michael had to choke each word out, drowning in the disapproval from his Father. “I just wanted him to stop…”
Your selfish want has been granted.
“Not like this!” Michael turned to God, grabbing at his Father’s hand, heedless of the danger that put him in. “Please, Father, I didn’t want him to stop forever! Please, You have to fix him! I’ll never wish him to stop again! Please!” His hands blistered as he touched God, but Michael still held on, enduring the pain as he beseeched his Father for intervention.
For the longest time, God said nothing. He watched Michael, His judgment heavy on Michael’s wings. Michael pressed his forehead to his Father’s hand, squeezing his eyes shut and praying for all he was worth for his Father’s forgiveness.
I should leave him dead. Leave you alone in the dark, to suffer the consequences of your thoughtless deeds. You disobeyed Me, Michael. You deserve no reward.
“No,” Michael whispered, shaking his head in denial and streaking a fresh burn across his spirit where it brushed his Father’s hand. “No, please, no…” Michael did not want to return to the dark, to once again be hunted and hounded by the tireless Leviathan, or whatever monster took their place. He did not want to be alone, one solitary mind in the endless Void. Father would never trust him with another brother. Michael didn't want another brother, not even one who wasn't as talkative or energetic. He wanted Sammael. He wanted to take back his selfish actions. He wanted to have his old brother back, his brother.
“Mich…ael?”
The voice was weak, breaking on the last syllable of his name, but Michael spun to face it all the same. Sammael was stirring in Death's arms, lifting his head and stretching his tiny hands (two hands, two!) toward his older brother. “Sammael!” Michael had never flown away from his Father so quickly before, closing the gap between them and wresting Sammael from Death's arms.
Already, Sammael looked healthier, alert and alive. His wings had reformed, and his spirit was steadily increasing in brightness. Sammael wrapped his arms around Michael's neck and squeezed tightly, pressing his little face against his brother's throat. “I lost you, Michael! You were gone, and I couldn't find you!”
“I know.” Michael's hands were still burnt, stiff and sore, but he forced his fingers to curl gently around Sammael's back, holding him as close as possible. “I'm sorry, Sammael. I'm so sorry. I'll never do that again. I'll always watch over you. Always. I love you.”
“Touching,” Death drawled, folding his thin arms. Michael drew his wings forward, wrapping them protectively around Sammael and glaring at the taker of life. “If I'm not needed?”
God gestured with one great hand, and Death was gone, disappearing into the Void. Michael closed his eyes for a moment before hesitantly looking back at his Father.
Sammael did no wrong, God said, answering a question Michael hadn't voiced. He didn't deserve to be punished for your misdeeds.
“I won't do it again,” Michael immediately promised. “Father, I won't disobey you again. I won't. Not ever again. I will be a good son.”
I may not be so lenient next time, God warned, lifting a finger to his oldest son. He was gone before Michael could utter any more promises, leaving nothing but the Void to surround the two angels.
Michael looked out into the dark, the not-so-empty dark, filled with not-so-nice things. The Leviathan were gone, but Michael did not know what else crept through the shadows to take their place. He shivered, all his wings trembling, and curled in closer to Sammael.
“You're shaking, Michael.” Sammael lifted his head to look at his brother, innocence still shining out of his bright eyes. “Are you scared?”
“No,” Michael murmured, running his hand over Sammael's glowing wings. The feathers pricked his burnt spirit, but Michael reveled in the pain. It meant he wasn't alone. He hadn't been forsaken in the dark. “No, little Light Bringer. Not anymore.”
Next...
Notes: Sammael = Lucifer
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Chapter word count: 2,816
Chapter Summary: I was scared too, when Father first displayed His wrath, Michael once told his brothers. There’s a story there…
This is the third Interlude chapter, set when the Archangels were kids themselves. Michael is roughly equivalent to an older teenager here, about 16, while Sammael is closer to 4.
MICHAEL AND SAMMAEL’S INTERLUDE
“I'm bored, Michael!” The pudgy little fledgling angel hung off his older brother's wings, swinging himself between them. “Play with me!”
Michael fought the urge to twitch his wings and shake his baby brother loose. When Father had first made Sammael, first presented Michael with this little angel He had dubbed 'your perfect companion,' Michael had been overjoyed. He no longer had to stand alone in the Void against the shadow-creatures God called Leviathan. He no longer had to fight and run and hide, always watching his back, his front, his sides. He no longer had to curl up alone, smothering his grace to mask his light when he was injured, huddled in on himself and praying he wouldn't be noticed, that he would be allowed to heal unmolested. With Sammael came a second set of eyes and a second dose of grace. Together, they shone bright enough to blind the Leviathan and keep the monsters at bay.
Sammael also brought simple companionship to Michael. He talked, oh, he talked a lot, talked about everything he saw and everything he felt and everything he imagined. He talked as Michael taught him how to move his wings to fly, and he talked as Michael taught him how to wield his sword to fight, and he talked as he curled up against Michael's chest, floating through the Void.
More than talking, Sammael played. He liked to make Michael chase him, and he liked to duck and weave around Michael's wings, and he liked to make up stories to share with Michael. Sammael was happiest when all attention was on him, and Sammael especially loved Michael’s attention.
Michael shook his wings, jarring Sammael loose. He caught him in one primary wing before Sammael could fall, sweeping him forward to look at his brother. Sammael shrieked with laughter and clapped his hands together, his little wings stirring against Michael’s feathers. “Do that again! Again!”
“Sammael…” Michael plucked his brother off his wing and drew him in close. Sammael squirmed in Michael’s arms, trying to climb over his shoulder to get back into his wings.
“I want to do that again!”
“Sammael!” Michael snapped his brother’s name, struggling not to shake the little angel. “Just calm down!”
Sammael stilled, looking up at Michael with big eyes, twisting his hands together. “Michael’s mad at me?”
“I’m not mad at you.” Michael had lost count of how many times he’d told that to Sammael. All the little angel had to do was stare at him with those big, big eyes, and Michael acquiesced to whatever he wanted.
Sammael gave a cheer at Michael’s reassurance, flinging his arms around Michael’s neck to hug him briefly before scrambling over his shoulder and tumbling back among Michael’s wings.
A fleck of anger flared up within Michael’s spirit. Why did he always have to submit to Sammael’s wishes? Why did his brother get to use him as his personal entertainment? Why didn’t Father ever step in and take care of Sammael? The little angel gave a hard yank on one of Michael’s wings, and the older angel grimaced in pain. Why him?
It shouldn’t have to be him. Sammael was an angel, same as Michael. He had fewer wings, but his grace was brighter than Michael’s had been when he was new. He was young and small, but not as small as Michael had been when he was first left alone.
It shouldn’t have to be him. It didn’t have to be him. Michael growled and flapped his wings, dumping Sammael into the Void. “You stay here,” he ordered Sammael, pointing a finger at the baby angel.
“Michael?” Sammael’s eyes were widening again, but Michael wasn’t having any of it this time.
“Stay!” he demanded, turning away from Sammael’s pleading grace and flying off into the Void.
Sammael didn’t listen. Sammael never listened to him. The little Archangel chased after Michael, his wings flapping as hard and fast as he could push them, but Michael had advantages of size and strength over him. One push of Michael’s wings required a thousand beats of Sammael’s to catch, and Sammael was soon far behind the older angel. Michael curled himself into a ball, folding his wings around him and veiling his grace. Without his light in the Void, Sammael had no way of finding him.
“Michael?”
The baby angel tired quickly, his wings slowing and eventually falling still. “Michael!” His little voice echoed through the darkness, calling to his brother, but Michael didn’t answer. He just wanted some peace. Was that too much to ask? Just a few moments on his own, without a baby tugging on his feathers or chasing after his wings or shattering the blessed silence with the sound of his own voice.
Sammael called after Michael several more times, but then he fell quiet and Michael could finally relax. He could still make out his little brother, far in the distance, a tiny pinprick of light. Father had told him to watch over Sammael. He didn’t say Michael had to be constantly at Sammael’s side.
The older Archangel spread his wings out and stretched in the Void, still keeping himself veiled. He purred to himself in pleasure, closing his eyes and reveling in the silence. This was wonderful. Peace and quiet, safety and darkness.
Something brushed over his spirit, a tickle of shadow. Michael froze, his eyes snapping open. He saw only darkness. Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move! Old habits were rushing back to him, old panic flaring deep within his grace.
The Leviathan were not gone. They avoided the angels, but they still existed in the Void. Michael had forgotten. He had forgotten! He had grown used to the safety he shared with Sammael, had grown lazy and complacent, and now at least one of the Leviathan was curling around his spirit. Its touch was gentle, and it wasn’t really holding Michael, so it wasn’t a threat-yet. Perhaps it didn’t realize Michael was an angel, since he was veiled and dark himself.
Sammael. His little brother was still twinkling in the Void, his bright grace a beacon for all the evil creatures that dwelled in the shadows. Sammael had never experienced an attack from the Leviathan. Michael had taught him how to draw his sword, but Sammael had never needed to use it. Would he even realize the Leviathan were a threat?
Michael needed to get back to Sammael before the Leviathan found him, but he couldn’t move with a Leviathan on him. No matter how much he tried, Michael could never imitate the liquid flow of the shadow monsters. As soon as he moved, it would know he was an angel and would attack.
A scream, high and terrified, reverberated through the Void. Sammael! Michael could feel his brother’s pain lance through his own grace, connected as they were. Michael reacted without thinking, flaring his wings wide and dropping his veil with a shout of his own.
Illuminated by the sudden grace, the Leviathan on Michael’s spirit turned its head, giant mouth splitting open wide and baring hundreds of sharp fangs. Michael lashed out, his sword punching through the creature of shadow, exploding it into thousands of pieces of black goo. Before it had even settled, Michael was flying back toward Sammael as fast as he could, his wings shoving aside the Leviathan as he moved. “Sammael! Sammael, to me!”
Sammael screamed again, wordless, confused, and abruptly cut off into a gurgle. Michael screamed right back, pure panic propelling him forward. “Sammael!“
The tiny angel was hanging limp in the mouth of a Leviathan, four more diving around his body and tearing huge chunks from his wings. Sammael twitched, his eyes fluttering open as Michael dive-bombed the Leviathan, his sword swinging. He reached one hand for his older brother only to have a Leviathan clamp down and tear at his spirit. Sammael twitched again, the light in his eyes fading fast. His grace was shredded, and the Leviathan were feasting on his spirit even as Michael tried to beat them off. For every monster he killed, two more came rushing in, snapping at his own wings. His grace alone wasn’t enough to drive them back, and Sammael’s grace was too weak now to do anything to help.
Michael managed to snatch his brother away from the Leviathan, holding what remained close against his own spirit. Even as he folded a wing around what remained of Sammael’s form, he knew he was too late. His little brother was fading away, his spirit barely glowing against Michael’s.
Light, pure and white, exploded around Michael. The Archangel instinctively curled up, throwing his wings around himself and the frail angel he held. Anger and fury, pure wrath, slammed into the Leviathan, instantly obliterating them. The ones that escaped the immediate destruction were wound up in one giant hand, knotted together and thrown into a hole ripped into the very nothingness of the Void. Before they could swim out, the hole was shut, sealed tightly against escape.
“Father…”
Michael’s weak cry was shoved aside by God as the Lord dealt with the creatures attacking his sons. Michael was shunted aside, ignored. He accepted the rebuff, aware that he had brought this on them by leaving Sammael, and instead turned his attention to his fading brother. “Don’t go, Sammael,” he murmured, reaching up to run his fingers along Sammael’s face. His brother’s wings were all but gone, a full half of his spirit consumed by the Leviathan. He didn’t even open his eyes at Michael’s touch, his remaining arm dangling limply to the side.
“Give him to me.”
Michael looked up sharply at the new voice. It was old and powerful, like his Father’s, but it wasn’t his Father. It was something he had never heard before, something that poured pure cold into the core of his spirit. A dark creature stood before him, not a shadow like the Leviathan, but a being of power, like Father. Instead of being a source of Life, this creature was a source of anti-Life. While Father put life into things, this thing took it out.
“Death,” the being said. “The word you are looking for is death. I am Death, and your brother is dying. Give him to me.”
“No.” Michael tucked Sammael against his chest, lifting his sword and pointing it at the creature, at Death. “No! You can’t have him!”
“You can’t keep him,” Death stated, crowding closer. Michael’s sword, his whole arm, went right through the being without any apparent effect. “He has been marked as one of mine.”
“No!” Michael dropped his sword to hold Sammael with both arms, clutching his brother against him, but Death just reached past his hold, drawing Sammael away. “No!“
STOP.
God’s voice boomed through the gathered beings. Michael immediately locked up at God’s order, though he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of his little brother in Death’s arms. Death turned his shadowed face toward God, tucking Sammael against him.
Michael.
Michael flinched at the sound of his name, wrapping his wings over his head. The Leviathan were gone, but his Father was still angry. Angry at him. “I’m sorry, Father,” he whispered, clenching his hands into fists, cursing his own uselessness. He should have been with Sammael. He should have protected his brother.
For what?
“For failing him. For failing You.”
What did I ask of you?
“Watch over Sammael.” Michael closed his eyes. “Keep him safe.”
Did you?
“No,” Michael whispered.
Why not?
Michael could feel his wings trembling. Father’s anger was a cold wind wrapping around him, ruffling his feathers and setting his grace on edge. How could he explain that he had just wanted to be alone for a moment? That after all God had given him, he had just wanted to get away? What words could describe how exhausting Sammael’s constant presence had been?
Sammael was faded now, silent and still, devoured by the shadows, his empty shell lying limp in Death’s arms. Michael had wanted freedom from Sammael, and now he had it. Sammael would never laugh with him again, never curl tiny fingers around his hand, never snuggle into his wings and sing. Michael wrapped his arms around his chest, immeasurable sadness filling his core. “I didn’t want it forever!”
It wasn’t an answer to Father’s question, and Michael knew it. He could feel his Father’s wrath pressing down on him, a thousand pins driving into his spirit, piercing through his grace as if it wasn’t even there. Father’s fury sliced through his wings and speared his arms, drove into his mind and dragged his grief out, exposing his innermost thoughts to the universe. Death watched dispassionately, and Sammael did nothing. He’d never do anything again. “I wanted… I wanted him to stop.” Michael had to choke each word out, drowning in the disapproval from his Father. “I just wanted him to stop…”
Your selfish want has been granted.
“Not like this!” Michael turned to God, grabbing at his Father’s hand, heedless of the danger that put him in. “Please, Father, I didn’t want him to stop forever! Please, You have to fix him! I’ll never wish him to stop again! Please!” His hands blistered as he touched God, but Michael still held on, enduring the pain as he beseeched his Father for intervention.
For the longest time, God said nothing. He watched Michael, His judgment heavy on Michael’s wings. Michael pressed his forehead to his Father’s hand, squeezing his eyes shut and praying for all he was worth for his Father’s forgiveness.
I should leave him dead. Leave you alone in the dark, to suffer the consequences of your thoughtless deeds. You disobeyed Me, Michael. You deserve no reward.
“No,” Michael whispered, shaking his head in denial and streaking a fresh burn across his spirit where it brushed his Father’s hand. “No, please, no…” Michael did not want to return to the dark, to once again be hunted and hounded by the tireless Leviathan, or whatever monster took their place. He did not want to be alone, one solitary mind in the endless Void. Father would never trust him with another brother. Michael didn't want another brother, not even one who wasn't as talkative or energetic. He wanted Sammael. He wanted to take back his selfish actions. He wanted to have his old brother back, his brother.
“Mich…ael?”
The voice was weak, breaking on the last syllable of his name, but Michael spun to face it all the same. Sammael was stirring in Death's arms, lifting his head and stretching his tiny hands (two hands, two!) toward his older brother. “Sammael!” Michael had never flown away from his Father so quickly before, closing the gap between them and wresting Sammael from Death's arms.
Already, Sammael looked healthier, alert and alive. His wings had reformed, and his spirit was steadily increasing in brightness. Sammael wrapped his arms around Michael's neck and squeezed tightly, pressing his little face against his brother's throat. “I lost you, Michael! You were gone, and I couldn't find you!”
“I know.” Michael's hands were still burnt, stiff and sore, but he forced his fingers to curl gently around Sammael's back, holding him as close as possible. “I'm sorry, Sammael. I'm so sorry. I'll never do that again. I'll always watch over you. Always. I love you.”
“Touching,” Death drawled, folding his thin arms. Michael drew his wings forward, wrapping them protectively around Sammael and glaring at the taker of life. “If I'm not needed?”
God gestured with one great hand, and Death was gone, disappearing into the Void. Michael closed his eyes for a moment before hesitantly looking back at his Father.
Sammael did no wrong, God said, answering a question Michael hadn't voiced. He didn't deserve to be punished for your misdeeds.
“I won't do it again,” Michael immediately promised. “Father, I won't disobey you again. I won't. Not ever again. I will be a good son.”
I may not be so lenient next time, God warned, lifting a finger to his oldest son. He was gone before Michael could utter any more promises, leaving nothing but the Void to surround the two angels.
Michael looked out into the dark, the not-so-empty dark, filled with not-so-nice things. The Leviathan were gone, but Michael did not know what else crept through the shadows to take their place. He shivered, all his wings trembling, and curled in closer to Sammael.
“You're shaking, Michael.” Sammael lifted his head to look at his brother, innocence still shining out of his bright eyes. “Are you scared?”
“No,” Michael murmured, running his hand over Sammael's glowing wings. The feathers pricked his burnt spirit, but Michael reveled in the pain. It meant he wasn't alone. He hadn't been forsaken in the dark. “No, little Light Bringer. Not anymore.”
Next...