Fic: A History of Heaven (Gabriel/Various Angels, PG-13 for this chapter) 36/59
For full notes and other chapters, please see the Masterpost.
Notes: Sammael = Lucifer
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Chapter word count: 3,606
Chapter Summary: Now that Lucifer’s locked away, it’s time to clean up some of the mess he left behind.
CHAPTER 36:
End of the Nephilim
Palaikastro slept.
It was several hours past midnight, and the sun was not due to rise for many more, so of course the people of Palaikastro were asleep, but the grace of an Archangel blanketed the entire city, ensuring that no innocent human would open their eyes and disturb the events of the night.
Gabriel stepped lightly through the gathered audience filling the streets of the Minoan city. Several hundred Nephilim tracked his movements, their glowing grey eyes narrowed and angry. Gabriel’s grace lashed their hands together and wrapped around their mouths, keeping them bound and silent without any outward sign.
“You’re probably wondering why I brought you here.” Gabriel looked at the nearest Nephilim, who growled at him. “No? You’re probably wondering how to break free and tear me down. Let me answer that for you, at least. You can’t.”
Gabriel climbed a few steps at the front of the crowd so he could look out at the hybrids and they could all see him. He linked his hands together behind his back, taking a quick count. Two hundred and fifty-seven Nephilim: every last Nephilim released into the world after the sacking of the Underworld. It had taken Gabriel and his angels several months to track them all down, but they had worked without complaint. Each time a Nephilim was discovered, they were hunted down and deposited here, on the isle of Crete. Angels slipped into all of the harbors, ensuring no Nephilim could get off the island. Some tried to swim away, but those were all slain in the water. Crete had become their prison, but as long as they behaved, they were allowed to live.
Of course, being allowed to live had meant they were available to give information to the angels. Gabriel had reluctantly borrowed Alistair’s skilled interrogators to question the Nephilim. Thanks to their hard work, Gabriel knew exactly how many Nephilim he had needed to find.
Gabriel rocked onto his toes and back onto his heels, offering his nieces and nephews a bright and utterly insincere smile. “Even if I didn’t have this city flanked with my Angels, none of you, not even all of you together, are a match for an Archangel. I’m holding you here, and you don’t get to leave unless I say so. Now. Do you think I’ll say so?” He looked down at the closest Nephilim, catching those grey eyes with his own. “Well? Do you?”
The Nephilim glared and slowly shook his head. Gabriel’s smile grew. “That’s right! You’re all going to die here. Tonight.”
For better or worse, the Nephilim did not panic or cry. They continued to glare at Gabriel, their concentrated hate nearly palpable in the warm summer night.
“Lucifer chastised me for killing your kind,” Gabriel continued, pacing across the step. “You were only acting in self-defense, he said. Your orders were to defend your home, nothing more.” Gabriel stopped and spread his arms out, looking down at the Nephilim. “I can understand that. I can respect that. If that had been all you did, I would have granted you a pardon and let you live your lives. But I also know for a fact that not one of you stopped there.”
Gabriel’s smile was gone now, replaced with a thunderous anger. “Every last one of you here has hunted angels for sport, innocent angels! You have murdered us for fun! Worse than that, you have played games with the humans. You have enslaved them, attacked them, and turned them on each other! Every last one of you has committed heinous crimes against the people of the Earth. Against both your families!” Gabriel slid his sword out of its sheath, sweeping it over the crowd. “That, I cannot respect. You had great power, and you used it for evil deeds. For that, you all will die.”
Of all the Archangels, Gabriel was the most peaceful. He loved laughter and talking, not charging into battles and swinging his sword. However, at his core, Gabriel believed in justice. Bad people deserved bad things, and these Nephilim were no angels. Gabriel cut through the entire crowd in just under three minutes. His sword dripped onto the crimson-flooded streets of Palaikastro, and when Gabriel wiped the back of his arm across his forehead, he left a bloody smear across his vessel’s skin.
Gabriel lifted his hand and gestured for one of his angels to approach. The nearest, a small Dominion who served under Cariel, flitted to his side. “Sir?”
“This mess needs to be cleaned up before the humans awake,” Gabriel said, looking around at the corpses filling the streets. “See that it is done.”
“Yes sir.” The Dominion, Samandiriel, saluted to Gabriel and turned back to his garrison to relay the order.
As the angels sprang into action, grabbing bodies and vanishing, or whisking their grace over the spilled blood to mop up the mess, Gabriel snapped his fingers to erase the blood from his own body. He tucked his pristine sword away and leapt into the air. First, he’d deliver his vessel back home, and then he’d return to Heaven himself. He needed some peace.
After depositing his vessel back in the human’s bed, Gabriel slipped through the far edge of the Borderlands and back into Heaven. Raphael’s angels had managed to contain the destructive Void to the eastern side of Heaven, but they had not been able to begin filling the nothingness. Gabriel suspected the repairs would take at least one Archangel, and Heaven was woefully short on those right now. Sammael, the most beautiful, most beloved of angels, was dead, replaced with the monster known as Lucifer, and even he was gone, sealed away in a prison that had been buried under God’s departure from the underworld. Raphael was badly wounded, barely able to function in his high tower to the east. Michael was distant and broken, silently watching the Host from eyes reflecting a spirit shattered into a thousand shards. Only Gabriel was functioning on anything close to his old level of ability, and he was exhausted from trying to fill the roles of every choirmaster.
“Cariel!” Gabriel called out to his second as he stepped into his office, but he was greeted by silence. His office was empty.
Gabriel frowned; it wasn’t like Cariel to not be waiting for him. Sure, Cariel had his own office… somewhere. The Seraph just hadn’t used it in several thousand years. He usually worked out of Gabriel’s office, since Gabriel was so rarely there. It made things easier to work together instead of splitting records between the offices.
Cariel was allowed to have a life of his own, but Gabriel still frowned as he swept several pages off the floor. There was paper strewn about, like Cariel had given up in frustration and thrown an entire file in the air. While the disarray didn’t actually affect Gabriel’s preferred method of filing (put things down wherever they fit and forget about them), it was highly unusual for the typically organized Seraph. Gabriel set the paper on his desk and stretched out his grace, feeling for his lieutenant. Cariel did not answer his wordless call. There was no answering flare of grace from the Seraph. Gabriel frowned and walked out of his office again. Cariel was hiding from him. But where?
Gabriel strode through the halls of his tower, nodding and smiling at any angel he passed. He asked all ranked Dominion or higher if they had seen Cariel, but most of them shook their heads. His second hadn’t been felt in the tower for several hours now, at least. This absence was worrying.
An unexpected concentration of Seraphim grace from the forty-seventh floor caught Gabriel’s attention. Floors forty-two through fifty-two were set aside for the angels managing the Earth, and one Seraph ruled over all ten. It had been several hundred years since Barachiel walked these halls. His angels continued to operate fairly autonomously, with Cariel stepping in on the few occasions they needed a Seraph’s judgment, but Cariel never intruded into Barachiel’s space. Gabriel detoured through the forty-seventh floor to investigate.
A slim angel sat behind Barachiel’s desk, rifling through a drawer. He looked up as Gabriel stepped inside, but Gabriel didn’t need to see his face to recognize his lost Seraph. Only one angel was missing his wings.
“Barachiel! You’re back!”
Barachiel smiled warmly at Gabriel, smoothly pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. “Returned an hour ago. I’m glad to be back. Five minutes in your tower proved more therapeutic than the years I've spent under Raphael's care.”
Gabriel pulled Barachiel around the desk and into a hug, careful to keep his wings away from the maimed Seraph. He could feel ridges along Barachiel's back, hard lines of his spirit that were shaping into new wings. “I hope Raphael didn’t mistreat you.”
The younger angel stiffened at the first touch, but he soon relaxed against Gabriel, wrapping his arms around his choirmaster. “No, not at all. I had the very best of care at the hands of his healers. I just… his tower is so sterile. No one laughs there. No one even smiles. I felt so small, so insignificant.”
“I’m sorry I did not visit you,” Gabriel began, but Barachiel interrupted with a shake of his head, followed by a flutter of his shoulders that would have corresponded to shifting, twitching wings.
“You had your own duties to attend to, and I know how you feel about Raphael. I did not expect to see you, or even as many of my angels as I did see. I think every angel under my command came by my room at least once.”
“They missed you. No one in Heaven can replace you, Barachiel.” Gabriel spoke his Seraph’s name lovingly, letting the sounds caress Barachiel’s damaged spirit. He smiled as Barachiel closed his eyes, clearly reveling in the pleasure.
“I heard you yourself came to my aid.” Barachiel opened his eyes again to look up at Gabriel. “You saved my life. Thank you. We were taken by surprise…”
“Lucifer ordered your attack,” Gabriel stepped away from Barachiel, turning toward the Seraph’s window. “He wanted me to know how powerful he was. He ordered your attack to ensure I would do what I could to end the war.”
“Did it work?” Barachiel asked, cocking his head to the side.
“Partially.” Gabriel sighed. “I did what Lucifer wanted, delivered his message, but Michael set his wings against him.”
“And so brother fought brother for centuries more?”
Gabriel nodded tiredly, sitting on the corner of Barachiel’s desk. “The Nephilim are no more, at least. I executed the last of them this morning.”
Barachiel’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and he said nothing as he turned his attention back to the reports he had been trying to catch up on.
“They won’t hurt you again,” Gabriel murmured, watching his Seraph.
Barachiel looked up sharply. “That wasn’t what concerned me.”
Gabriel cocked his head to the side, encouraging Barachiel to explain. The younger angel looked away, his fingers clenching into fists, hesitating before the words burst out. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t their fault! None of them asked to be created. They were following their orders, same as any other angel of Heaven. Can they really be punished for obedience? Did they all deserve slaughter?”
“Yes,” Gabriel answered. “They went against the will of God.” He held up a hand to stop Barachiel from protesting. “Obedience is celebrated only if it follows God’s plan for the universe, Barachiel. They were obedient, yes, but to the wrong leader. They were found guilty and received the punishment they deserved. Their executions were swift. None of them were forced to linger in pain.”
“They didn’t know any better.” Barachiel sank into his chair, resting his forehead in his hands. “Gabriel, none of them were given a chance to know Heaven. Ultimately, they didn’t have a choice. How could they be punished for not being exposed to God?”
“They were the children of angels and humans,” Gabriel argued back. “They were created in God’s image. All of them had a spark of God’s grace at their core, just as all of us do, all of humanity does. Any one of them had the capacity for great things, good things, and none of them chose to exercise that ability. Just as any human who lives a good life can find eternal rest in Heaven, any Nephilim who lived a good life could have been pardoned.”
“And none of them did?”
“None of them.” Gabriel reached out to smooth his fingers over Barachiel’s head. “Barachiel, I did check. They all received what they deserved. You know I’m not a bloodthirsty monster.”
“A lot can change in two centuries,” Barachiel murmured.
Gabriel drew his hand back abruptly, stung by his Seraph’s words, his accusation. To his credit, Barachiel looked just as horrified by what he said as he looked up at Gabriel.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to… I know you’re not… I just meant…”
“What did you mean?” Gabriel asked quietly, pressing his hands in his lap.
Barachiel’s shoulders shivered again, shifting phantom wings. “Raphael,” he began warily, “is Heaven’s Healer. By his very nature, he should be the gentlest Archangel.” Gabriel snorted at the thought of Raphael being gentle, and Barachiel nodded a little in agreement. “Exactly. It’s easy to forget how…”
“Tactless?” Gabriel suggested, earning himself a tiny smile from Barachiel.
“I was going to say abrupt. It’s easy to forget how abrupt he actually is when you don’t interact with him often. While I was healing, he did come in regularly to check on my progress.”
“I thought he left you in the care of some Cherubim,” Gabriel said, frowning a little. “That’s what I heard.”
“He did,” Barachiel confirmed. “But then he himself would come in often, every other month or so.”
“You saw Raphael more than you saw me.” Gabriel felt vaguely guilty for abandoning Barachiel for his duty, but Barachiel’s grace held no resentment.
“Exactly,” the Seraph said. “I grew accustomed to the gruff abruptness of Raphael, and forgot you are much warmer in person than most angels believe.”
“Other angels think I’m cold?” This was news to Gabriel. He knew his choir loved him, but he had never really considered how his other brothers thought of him. He didn’t really interact with them-and that was really the problem, wasn’t it?
“Very few angels have a reason to interact with an Archangel,” Barachiel explained patiently. “Even lower-level Seraphim rarely see their choirmaster directly. Dominions, Angels, and Cherubim have little chance. They know the Archangels from afar, see them in the distance as glowing pillars of strength, radiating God’s righteousness and power. What little they do glean from orders from their choirmaster, filtered through their Dominions or Seraphim, they use to extrapolate the smallest understanding of the oldest.”
“We put on a show,” Gabriel murmured, closing his eyes and casting his mind out over Heaven, feeling all his brothers going about their duties. “In front of the whole Host, we don’t dare show anything that could be construed as weakness.”
“Exactly.” Barachiel gestured between them. “This? You don’t show this side of you to anyone outside your choir, except Michael and Sam-except just Michael now. You and Raphael can’t be in the same room without stinging each other. In front of my Dominions, Angels, and Cherubim, you puff up a bit-you’re their friend, but you’re also their leader. I imagine you do the same for any subordinates. Probably the only Angel who has seen you like this is that little one of Raphael’s you fought for-Castiel?-and you hardly make time to visit him. Archangels are power, Gabriel, not love. Not even really family. You four-three-always stood apart as something different. Something super-angel. The power disparity between me and one of my Dominions, or even me and one of my Cherubim is absolutely laughable in the face of the power disparity between you and me. We can’t… we can’t relate to you, just as we can’t relate to God our Father.”
Gabriel had no rebuttal. Barachiel had several good points. The grace and power of a Seraph was like a candle to the sun of an Archangel, which was why no one even considered suggesting one be promoted to replace Lucifer. When a Seraph fell, an intelligent Dominion could be promoted by an Archangel without too much difficulty, but only God could create the force of an Archangel.
He was also guilty of ignoring his younger brothers not in his own choir. Gabriel could count on both hands all the angels not in his choir he frequently interacted with-Filiel, before his death, then Naomi and Azazel. Joshua. Marmoniel with Raphael, and Castiel. Hester and Ion, the Angels he had traded to receive Castiel. He hadn’t even personally met every angel in his choir, now that he had taken in a third of Sammael’s angels. He tried, he really did, but between fighting a war and keeping Heaven running smoothly, Gabriel just didn’t have time.
“And you’re the most connected with the rest of us,” Barachiel murmured, watching Gabriel’s contemplation. “In my stay in his tower, I learned that only a handful of Raphael’s angels speak with him on anything like a regular basis. Only Marmoniel is guaranteed the chance to speak with him. Everything else passes through her. Same with Michael. Sammael,” Barachiel hesitated after mentioning the fourth Archangel-none of the Host really knew how to deal with the loss of one of their leaders, not even the other Archangels-before soldiering on. “Sammael was more like you, he would speak with his angels, and the lower ranks could interact with him, request meetings and such, but even Sammael didn’t connect with his lower choir members the way you do.”
“Does Cariel do that?” Gabriel asked. “Control who sees me, like Marmoniel?” He looked over at Barachiel, needing to hear the truth.
Barachiel shrugged, the gesture horribly empty without his wings. “I haven’t spoken with Cariel in over a hundred years, so I don’t know if things have changed. He would stay on top of your schedule, and he would occasionally discourage angels from making appointments with you, but only if he suspected you sincerely would not like the appointment. He told me about doing that with Naomi several times. I don’t think he ever censored our choir members from meeting with you, but he did encourage the other Seraphim and Dominions to try to handle problems ourselves before taking them to you. At least, that was how he ran things before I…” Barachiel trailed off, glancing back forlornly at his lack of wings.
“Thank you,” Gabriel said, pushing off Barachiel’s desk to stand again. “Thank you for being honest with me, Barachiel. I don’t think anyone has explained how the Host sees the Archangels before.”
“Thank you for not firing me for it,” Barachiel replied with a little smile. “Raphael would not take any sort of backtalk from his angels. He actually did demote several Seraphim in the past few centuries, and replaced them with headstrong Dominions. Zachariah’s been promoted several ranks too, from what I’ve heard. He really loves Raphael’s choir.”
“Backtalk?” Gabriel pointed a finger at Barachiel. “If you ever stop speaking your mind to me, we’re going to have problems! Healthy debate makes a healthy choir!”
Barachiel’s smile lit up the room, the first bright grin Gabriel had seen from him since the Nephilim sunk their stolen swords into his wings. This was Barachiel’s special talent, the ability to make everything so much more alive just with his own happiness. “Oh, I have missed my choir!”
Gabriel laughed, pulling Barachiel in for another hug. The Seraph surged into this embrace with a bubbly energy much more like his former self. “We really have missed you too, Barach. Make sure you make the rounds, so the others get a chance to greet you too.”
“As soon as I get a handle on this, I will,” Barachiel promised, looking over his desk. “Who has been overseeing Earth in my absence?”
“Your Dominions did a fine job on their own, but Cariel stepped up when they needed a Seraph. Speaking of Cariel, do you know where he is?”
Barachiel shook his head, frowning a little. “No… he wasn’t in the tower when I returned. I assumed he was with you.”
“He’s been missing for an hour?” Gabriel’s good mood was evaporating. Cariel was never unavailable at the same time as Gabriel, unless they were together, and he knew Gabriel would be busy on Earth with the Nephilim. “That’s not like him. Do you know if someone might have called him away?”
Barachiel’s frown deepened as he searched his memories. “Er… Azazel was here, for a moment, when I returned, but Cariel wasn’t. Azazel was in your office, but he left quickly. I assumed it was because no one else was there. Otherwise, it’s only been your angels in the tower.”
“Azazel?” Unease was definitely bubbling up within Gabriel now. Azazel never meant good news. “Barachiel, I’m going to speak with Azazel. I want you to stay in the tower. You’re in charge until I return.”
“Me? Gabriel, I’ve only just returned myself!”
Gabriel waved his hand dismissively, stretching his wings. “Samandiriel, one of Cariel’s Dominions, should be returning with his garrison shortly. He’ll be able to help you with anything that happened in your absence. Right now, I need to find Cariel.”
Next...
Notes: Sammael = Lucifer
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Chapter word count: 3,606
Chapter Summary: Now that Lucifer’s locked away, it’s time to clean up some of the mess he left behind.
CHAPTER 36:
End of the Nephilim
Palaikastro slept.
It was several hours past midnight, and the sun was not due to rise for many more, so of course the people of Palaikastro were asleep, but the grace of an Archangel blanketed the entire city, ensuring that no innocent human would open their eyes and disturb the events of the night.
Gabriel stepped lightly through the gathered audience filling the streets of the Minoan city. Several hundred Nephilim tracked his movements, their glowing grey eyes narrowed and angry. Gabriel’s grace lashed their hands together and wrapped around their mouths, keeping them bound and silent without any outward sign.
“You’re probably wondering why I brought you here.” Gabriel looked at the nearest Nephilim, who growled at him. “No? You’re probably wondering how to break free and tear me down. Let me answer that for you, at least. You can’t.”
Gabriel climbed a few steps at the front of the crowd so he could look out at the hybrids and they could all see him. He linked his hands together behind his back, taking a quick count. Two hundred and fifty-seven Nephilim: every last Nephilim released into the world after the sacking of the Underworld. It had taken Gabriel and his angels several months to track them all down, but they had worked without complaint. Each time a Nephilim was discovered, they were hunted down and deposited here, on the isle of Crete. Angels slipped into all of the harbors, ensuring no Nephilim could get off the island. Some tried to swim away, but those were all slain in the water. Crete had become their prison, but as long as they behaved, they were allowed to live.
Of course, being allowed to live had meant they were available to give information to the angels. Gabriel had reluctantly borrowed Alistair’s skilled interrogators to question the Nephilim. Thanks to their hard work, Gabriel knew exactly how many Nephilim he had needed to find.
Gabriel rocked onto his toes and back onto his heels, offering his nieces and nephews a bright and utterly insincere smile. “Even if I didn’t have this city flanked with my Angels, none of you, not even all of you together, are a match for an Archangel. I’m holding you here, and you don’t get to leave unless I say so. Now. Do you think I’ll say so?” He looked down at the closest Nephilim, catching those grey eyes with his own. “Well? Do you?”
The Nephilim glared and slowly shook his head. Gabriel’s smile grew. “That’s right! You’re all going to die here. Tonight.”
For better or worse, the Nephilim did not panic or cry. They continued to glare at Gabriel, their concentrated hate nearly palpable in the warm summer night.
“Lucifer chastised me for killing your kind,” Gabriel continued, pacing across the step. “You were only acting in self-defense, he said. Your orders were to defend your home, nothing more.” Gabriel stopped and spread his arms out, looking down at the Nephilim. “I can understand that. I can respect that. If that had been all you did, I would have granted you a pardon and let you live your lives. But I also know for a fact that not one of you stopped there.”
Gabriel’s smile was gone now, replaced with a thunderous anger. “Every last one of you here has hunted angels for sport, innocent angels! You have murdered us for fun! Worse than that, you have played games with the humans. You have enslaved them, attacked them, and turned them on each other! Every last one of you has committed heinous crimes against the people of the Earth. Against both your families!” Gabriel slid his sword out of its sheath, sweeping it over the crowd. “That, I cannot respect. You had great power, and you used it for evil deeds. For that, you all will die.”
Of all the Archangels, Gabriel was the most peaceful. He loved laughter and talking, not charging into battles and swinging his sword. However, at his core, Gabriel believed in justice. Bad people deserved bad things, and these Nephilim were no angels. Gabriel cut through the entire crowd in just under three minutes. His sword dripped onto the crimson-flooded streets of Palaikastro, and when Gabriel wiped the back of his arm across his forehead, he left a bloody smear across his vessel’s skin.
Gabriel lifted his hand and gestured for one of his angels to approach. The nearest, a small Dominion who served under Cariel, flitted to his side. “Sir?”
“This mess needs to be cleaned up before the humans awake,” Gabriel said, looking around at the corpses filling the streets. “See that it is done.”
“Yes sir.” The Dominion, Samandiriel, saluted to Gabriel and turned back to his garrison to relay the order.
As the angels sprang into action, grabbing bodies and vanishing, or whisking their grace over the spilled blood to mop up the mess, Gabriel snapped his fingers to erase the blood from his own body. He tucked his pristine sword away and leapt into the air. First, he’d deliver his vessel back home, and then he’d return to Heaven himself. He needed some peace.
After depositing his vessel back in the human’s bed, Gabriel slipped through the far edge of the Borderlands and back into Heaven. Raphael’s angels had managed to contain the destructive Void to the eastern side of Heaven, but they had not been able to begin filling the nothingness. Gabriel suspected the repairs would take at least one Archangel, and Heaven was woefully short on those right now. Sammael, the most beautiful, most beloved of angels, was dead, replaced with the monster known as Lucifer, and even he was gone, sealed away in a prison that had been buried under God’s departure from the underworld. Raphael was badly wounded, barely able to function in his high tower to the east. Michael was distant and broken, silently watching the Host from eyes reflecting a spirit shattered into a thousand shards. Only Gabriel was functioning on anything close to his old level of ability, and he was exhausted from trying to fill the roles of every choirmaster.
“Cariel!” Gabriel called out to his second as he stepped into his office, but he was greeted by silence. His office was empty.
Gabriel frowned; it wasn’t like Cariel to not be waiting for him. Sure, Cariel had his own office… somewhere. The Seraph just hadn’t used it in several thousand years. He usually worked out of Gabriel’s office, since Gabriel was so rarely there. It made things easier to work together instead of splitting records between the offices.
Cariel was allowed to have a life of his own, but Gabriel still frowned as he swept several pages off the floor. There was paper strewn about, like Cariel had given up in frustration and thrown an entire file in the air. While the disarray didn’t actually affect Gabriel’s preferred method of filing (put things down wherever they fit and forget about them), it was highly unusual for the typically organized Seraph. Gabriel set the paper on his desk and stretched out his grace, feeling for his lieutenant. Cariel did not answer his wordless call. There was no answering flare of grace from the Seraph. Gabriel frowned and walked out of his office again. Cariel was hiding from him. But where?
Gabriel strode through the halls of his tower, nodding and smiling at any angel he passed. He asked all ranked Dominion or higher if they had seen Cariel, but most of them shook their heads. His second hadn’t been felt in the tower for several hours now, at least. This absence was worrying.
An unexpected concentration of Seraphim grace from the forty-seventh floor caught Gabriel’s attention. Floors forty-two through fifty-two were set aside for the angels managing the Earth, and one Seraph ruled over all ten. It had been several hundred years since Barachiel walked these halls. His angels continued to operate fairly autonomously, with Cariel stepping in on the few occasions they needed a Seraph’s judgment, but Cariel never intruded into Barachiel’s space. Gabriel detoured through the forty-seventh floor to investigate.
A slim angel sat behind Barachiel’s desk, rifling through a drawer. He looked up as Gabriel stepped inside, but Gabriel didn’t need to see his face to recognize his lost Seraph. Only one angel was missing his wings.
“Barachiel! You’re back!”
Barachiel smiled warmly at Gabriel, smoothly pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. “Returned an hour ago. I’m glad to be back. Five minutes in your tower proved more therapeutic than the years I've spent under Raphael's care.”
Gabriel pulled Barachiel around the desk and into a hug, careful to keep his wings away from the maimed Seraph. He could feel ridges along Barachiel's back, hard lines of his spirit that were shaping into new wings. “I hope Raphael didn’t mistreat you.”
The younger angel stiffened at the first touch, but he soon relaxed against Gabriel, wrapping his arms around his choirmaster. “No, not at all. I had the very best of care at the hands of his healers. I just… his tower is so sterile. No one laughs there. No one even smiles. I felt so small, so insignificant.”
“I’m sorry I did not visit you,” Gabriel began, but Barachiel interrupted with a shake of his head, followed by a flutter of his shoulders that would have corresponded to shifting, twitching wings.
“You had your own duties to attend to, and I know how you feel about Raphael. I did not expect to see you, or even as many of my angels as I did see. I think every angel under my command came by my room at least once.”
“They missed you. No one in Heaven can replace you, Barachiel.” Gabriel spoke his Seraph’s name lovingly, letting the sounds caress Barachiel’s damaged spirit. He smiled as Barachiel closed his eyes, clearly reveling in the pleasure.
“I heard you yourself came to my aid.” Barachiel opened his eyes again to look up at Gabriel. “You saved my life. Thank you. We were taken by surprise…”
“Lucifer ordered your attack,” Gabriel stepped away from Barachiel, turning toward the Seraph’s window. “He wanted me to know how powerful he was. He ordered your attack to ensure I would do what I could to end the war.”
“Did it work?” Barachiel asked, cocking his head to the side.
“Partially.” Gabriel sighed. “I did what Lucifer wanted, delivered his message, but Michael set his wings against him.”
“And so brother fought brother for centuries more?”
Gabriel nodded tiredly, sitting on the corner of Barachiel’s desk. “The Nephilim are no more, at least. I executed the last of them this morning.”
Barachiel’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and he said nothing as he turned his attention back to the reports he had been trying to catch up on.
“They won’t hurt you again,” Gabriel murmured, watching his Seraph.
Barachiel looked up sharply. “That wasn’t what concerned me.”
Gabriel cocked his head to the side, encouraging Barachiel to explain. The younger angel looked away, his fingers clenching into fists, hesitating before the words burst out. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t their fault! None of them asked to be created. They were following their orders, same as any other angel of Heaven. Can they really be punished for obedience? Did they all deserve slaughter?”
“Yes,” Gabriel answered. “They went against the will of God.” He held up a hand to stop Barachiel from protesting. “Obedience is celebrated only if it follows God’s plan for the universe, Barachiel. They were obedient, yes, but to the wrong leader. They were found guilty and received the punishment they deserved. Their executions were swift. None of them were forced to linger in pain.”
“They didn’t know any better.” Barachiel sank into his chair, resting his forehead in his hands. “Gabriel, none of them were given a chance to know Heaven. Ultimately, they didn’t have a choice. How could they be punished for not being exposed to God?”
“They were the children of angels and humans,” Gabriel argued back. “They were created in God’s image. All of them had a spark of God’s grace at their core, just as all of us do, all of humanity does. Any one of them had the capacity for great things, good things, and none of them chose to exercise that ability. Just as any human who lives a good life can find eternal rest in Heaven, any Nephilim who lived a good life could have been pardoned.”
“And none of them did?”
“None of them.” Gabriel reached out to smooth his fingers over Barachiel’s head. “Barachiel, I did check. They all received what they deserved. You know I’m not a bloodthirsty monster.”
“A lot can change in two centuries,” Barachiel murmured.
Gabriel drew his hand back abruptly, stung by his Seraph’s words, his accusation. To his credit, Barachiel looked just as horrified by what he said as he looked up at Gabriel.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to… I know you’re not… I just meant…”
“What did you mean?” Gabriel asked quietly, pressing his hands in his lap.
Barachiel’s shoulders shivered again, shifting phantom wings. “Raphael,” he began warily, “is Heaven’s Healer. By his very nature, he should be the gentlest Archangel.” Gabriel snorted at the thought of Raphael being gentle, and Barachiel nodded a little in agreement. “Exactly. It’s easy to forget how…”
“Tactless?” Gabriel suggested, earning himself a tiny smile from Barachiel.
“I was going to say abrupt. It’s easy to forget how abrupt he actually is when you don’t interact with him often. While I was healing, he did come in regularly to check on my progress.”
“I thought he left you in the care of some Cherubim,” Gabriel said, frowning a little. “That’s what I heard.”
“He did,” Barachiel confirmed. “But then he himself would come in often, every other month or so.”
“You saw Raphael more than you saw me.” Gabriel felt vaguely guilty for abandoning Barachiel for his duty, but Barachiel’s grace held no resentment.
“Exactly,” the Seraph said. “I grew accustomed to the gruff abruptness of Raphael, and forgot you are much warmer in person than most angels believe.”
“Other angels think I’m cold?” This was news to Gabriel. He knew his choir loved him, but he had never really considered how his other brothers thought of him. He didn’t really interact with them-and that was really the problem, wasn’t it?
“Very few angels have a reason to interact with an Archangel,” Barachiel explained patiently. “Even lower-level Seraphim rarely see their choirmaster directly. Dominions, Angels, and Cherubim have little chance. They know the Archangels from afar, see them in the distance as glowing pillars of strength, radiating God’s righteousness and power. What little they do glean from orders from their choirmaster, filtered through their Dominions or Seraphim, they use to extrapolate the smallest understanding of the oldest.”
“We put on a show,” Gabriel murmured, closing his eyes and casting his mind out over Heaven, feeling all his brothers going about their duties. “In front of the whole Host, we don’t dare show anything that could be construed as weakness.”
“Exactly.” Barachiel gestured between them. “This? You don’t show this side of you to anyone outside your choir, except Michael and Sam-except just Michael now. You and Raphael can’t be in the same room without stinging each other. In front of my Dominions, Angels, and Cherubim, you puff up a bit-you’re their friend, but you’re also their leader. I imagine you do the same for any subordinates. Probably the only Angel who has seen you like this is that little one of Raphael’s you fought for-Castiel?-and you hardly make time to visit him. Archangels are power, Gabriel, not love. Not even really family. You four-three-always stood apart as something different. Something super-angel. The power disparity between me and one of my Dominions, or even me and one of my Cherubim is absolutely laughable in the face of the power disparity between you and me. We can’t… we can’t relate to you, just as we can’t relate to God our Father.”
Gabriel had no rebuttal. Barachiel had several good points. The grace and power of a Seraph was like a candle to the sun of an Archangel, which was why no one even considered suggesting one be promoted to replace Lucifer. When a Seraph fell, an intelligent Dominion could be promoted by an Archangel without too much difficulty, but only God could create the force of an Archangel.
He was also guilty of ignoring his younger brothers not in his own choir. Gabriel could count on both hands all the angels not in his choir he frequently interacted with-Filiel, before his death, then Naomi and Azazel. Joshua. Marmoniel with Raphael, and Castiel. Hester and Ion, the Angels he had traded to receive Castiel. He hadn’t even personally met every angel in his choir, now that he had taken in a third of Sammael’s angels. He tried, he really did, but between fighting a war and keeping Heaven running smoothly, Gabriel just didn’t have time.
“And you’re the most connected with the rest of us,” Barachiel murmured, watching Gabriel’s contemplation. “In my stay in his tower, I learned that only a handful of Raphael’s angels speak with him on anything like a regular basis. Only Marmoniel is guaranteed the chance to speak with him. Everything else passes through her. Same with Michael. Sammael,” Barachiel hesitated after mentioning the fourth Archangel-none of the Host really knew how to deal with the loss of one of their leaders, not even the other Archangels-before soldiering on. “Sammael was more like you, he would speak with his angels, and the lower ranks could interact with him, request meetings and such, but even Sammael didn’t connect with his lower choir members the way you do.”
“Does Cariel do that?” Gabriel asked. “Control who sees me, like Marmoniel?” He looked over at Barachiel, needing to hear the truth.
Barachiel shrugged, the gesture horribly empty without his wings. “I haven’t spoken with Cariel in over a hundred years, so I don’t know if things have changed. He would stay on top of your schedule, and he would occasionally discourage angels from making appointments with you, but only if he suspected you sincerely would not like the appointment. He told me about doing that with Naomi several times. I don’t think he ever censored our choir members from meeting with you, but he did encourage the other Seraphim and Dominions to try to handle problems ourselves before taking them to you. At least, that was how he ran things before I…” Barachiel trailed off, glancing back forlornly at his lack of wings.
“Thank you,” Gabriel said, pushing off Barachiel’s desk to stand again. “Thank you for being honest with me, Barachiel. I don’t think anyone has explained how the Host sees the Archangels before.”
“Thank you for not firing me for it,” Barachiel replied with a little smile. “Raphael would not take any sort of backtalk from his angels. He actually did demote several Seraphim in the past few centuries, and replaced them with headstrong Dominions. Zachariah’s been promoted several ranks too, from what I’ve heard. He really loves Raphael’s choir.”
“Backtalk?” Gabriel pointed a finger at Barachiel. “If you ever stop speaking your mind to me, we’re going to have problems! Healthy debate makes a healthy choir!”
Barachiel’s smile lit up the room, the first bright grin Gabriel had seen from him since the Nephilim sunk their stolen swords into his wings. This was Barachiel’s special talent, the ability to make everything so much more alive just with his own happiness. “Oh, I have missed my choir!”
Gabriel laughed, pulling Barachiel in for another hug. The Seraph surged into this embrace with a bubbly energy much more like his former self. “We really have missed you too, Barach. Make sure you make the rounds, so the others get a chance to greet you too.”
“As soon as I get a handle on this, I will,” Barachiel promised, looking over his desk. “Who has been overseeing Earth in my absence?”
“Your Dominions did a fine job on their own, but Cariel stepped up when they needed a Seraph. Speaking of Cariel, do you know where he is?”
Barachiel shook his head, frowning a little. “No… he wasn’t in the tower when I returned. I assumed he was with you.”
“He’s been missing for an hour?” Gabriel’s good mood was evaporating. Cariel was never unavailable at the same time as Gabriel, unless they were together, and he knew Gabriel would be busy on Earth with the Nephilim. “That’s not like him. Do you know if someone might have called him away?”
Barachiel’s frown deepened as he searched his memories. “Er… Azazel was here, for a moment, when I returned, but Cariel wasn’t. Azazel was in your office, but he left quickly. I assumed it was because no one else was there. Otherwise, it’s only been your angels in the tower.”
“Azazel?” Unease was definitely bubbling up within Gabriel now. Azazel never meant good news. “Barachiel, I’m going to speak with Azazel. I want you to stay in the tower. You’re in charge until I return.”
“Me? Gabriel, I’ve only just returned myself!”
Gabriel waved his hand dismissively, stretching his wings. “Samandiriel, one of Cariel’s Dominions, should be returning with his garrison shortly. He’ll be able to help you with anything that happened in your absence. Right now, I need to find Cariel.”
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