Outside Omens

Michael actually managed to find his way to St. James' Park. Upon arriving he saw Raphael, pacing near the duck pond. The healer appeared rather nervous, and this worried Michael. If something was wrong with Raphael, he was automatically worried. nothing was allowed to bother his beloved Raphael.

Making sure he was invisible to human eyes, he landed to the ground near Raphael, folding his wings. "Raphael," he greeted, his eyes on the healer, observing, wondering. "You had something to tell me."

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Raphael looked at him but made no move to come nearer or to touch him. He looked Michael in the eye and felt his heart beating wildly. With hardly a thought he stilled it.

He had to do it.

"Yes Michael. I have a lot to tell you. I don't want you to blame yourself because it was not your fault, it was mine entirely. I will be quick but just let me say what I have to say.

I have lied, cheated, deceived, manipulated and utterly abused you.

I lusted after your body and did not love you when I told you I did. I did this because I knew you wanted to love me and thought that you would be easy to fool - I disdained you too. At the time I was worried about being Felled for my loathing and agression towards Pestilence; that at least was genuine. You were the perfect bodyguard..." He swallowed. "The perfect meatshield. And when it fit my purposes and my mood, I manipulated you into fighting as with Crowley.

All my words, my touches, my caresses were lies. Every sign of affection I showed was simply to protect myself. And even when I felt guilty, I pushed that away and blamed you for being naive.

I see now that I've been the wrong one, the cruel one. You waste your love on a shoddy, inferior creature who does not deserve it. You were what an angel ought to be - kind, loving and forgiving, if perhaps a bit too trusting. I took advantage of that and debased myself.

It can't go on Michael. So I want you to... to stay away from me. I've done awful things and I know that I will likely reap what filth I have sown. I don't want you to be part of that. I don't want you to suffer for the things I've done wrong.

Forget me as much as you can and do not involve yourself with me. I know it will hurt - but it's for the best."

Somehow his eyes were miraculously dry but he felt terrified beyond belief. It was too late, there could be no going back now.

He knew.

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For quite some time Michael simply stared at Raphael, trying to process everything he'd just heard. While Raphael was speaking he'd been unable to get a single word from his mouth, too shocked to say anything. Now he went over everything the other had said, slowly coming to realize just what it all meant.

Even though he'd been told that he had been deceived, manipulated, his mind did not dwell on this betrayal. The main thought in his mind was, 'Raphael does not love me.'

It hurt. It hurt more than any demonic weapon ever could have. And the betrayal hurt too; it all tore at his heart, chopping it into small pieces with no mercy.

This last month he'd been happier than ever before in his existence. Well, at first he had been. Then, however, that happiness had been invaded by worry and fear, not for himself but for his beloved. Now it all came crashing down on him. Raphael didn't love him.

Only after this did he think about the way he had been betrayed, the way Raphael had played with him and his emotions, used him. It felt horrible -- to be betrayed that way by the one being he had trusted most! And for such a reason, too.

"You didn't have to do that," he said quietly, not looking at the healer. His heart ached too much for him to do so. "There was no need to mislead me in order to have me protect you, Raphael. You'd told me you'd never love me, and I still would have died for you."

After a moment of silence, he whispered again, "There was no need... I loved you too much anyway."

And, as much as it pained him, he realized he still loved Raphael. He didn't want to, not after the pain of the betrayal, but he did.

He was about to say something else, too, but suddenly he froze, staring at something his eyes had caught on the sky. It was a manshaped being with wings, flying towards them.

Even before it got near enough for him to see any details he knew that it was Uriel.

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"I know... I know... I'm sorry Michael! I'm sorry I did this to you, for my own gain, my self-centered attitude, I'm sorry I hurt you with that, I can't even imagine..."

Then he felt the Presence.

No!

"Michael... Michael please, this is my problem, don't do anything stupid!" His blood would have run cold if his heart was beating. "Don't!"

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Every sense of Uriel's was screaming at him as he neared Raphael. He grasped the hilt of his sword even tighter, mentally preparing himself for what he'd have to do. It scared him, scared him more than anything else had ever done, but he would do it. It was his duty.

When he came near enough to see Raphael in the park, however, he realized that it would not be easy. Michael was there too. He would surely cause problems.

Uriel bit his lip. He did not want this. he'd never wanted any of this, he had tried to warn Raphael, warn them both, and they hadn't listened. They never listened.

It hurt.

Slowly he started to head down. This near to Raphael his vision was altering, allowing him to see the glow of Presence around his two fellow archangels, as well as the glowing cords of power that connected them to Him. They were different colours -- Raphael's was yellow and Michael's red; humans hadn't been exactly amiss when picking their symbolic colours -- but they had in common the white strands of Him woven among their own power.

His own aura was now visible to him too, the greenish glow and pure white strands making it harder for him to see the corporeal forms of Raphael and Michael. He did see their angelic forms, however, the Presence like a filter on his vision.

Without a word he landed on the ground, watching them both seriously, his sword at ready.

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Michael did hear and register Raphael's warning. However, it all fled his mind as he saw Uriel landing in front of them, a sword in hand. Without as much as a thought he summoned his own sword, setting it aflame and stepping between Raphael and Uriel.

He wouldn't allow his Raphael to be hurt. Even if he had been betrayed, he still loved the healer.

"Not one step nearer, Uriel," he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the darkhaired archangel, watching closely his every move. "I won't allow it." He pointed his sword at his colleague.

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"Michael!" Raphael shouted. "I told you this isn't your problem, this is mine, don't do this, please don't, I won't let you!"

He dashed between them, facing Michael and pressing his hands against his chest, frightened of Uriel's sword but even more of seeing what he'd come to prevent happen before his eyes.

"Go back Michael. Don't watch this. Put down the sword and fly away. Please."

His emotions teetered on hysteria and the tears he'd held back started to seep out of his eyes.

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Michael's heart ached at seeing the tears in Raphael's eyes. However, he couldn't stand back. Not anymore. He couldn't live with himself if Raphael Fell and he had done nothing to prevent it. So, uncaring about Raphael's pleas, he gently picked up the healer and set him again behind himself. Then he faced Uriel, who was still watching him wordlessly, his sword raised.

Uriel was not going to step back, that was for sure. Apparently he wasn't going to make the first move, either.

"No, Raphael," he said quietly. "You fly away and be safe."

And, with this, he charged.

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"MICHAEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

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Uriel was shocked to see Michael actually attacking him. However, at the moment ins instincts were working on full force. This definitely wasn't the first time he'd had to fight somebody to fulfill his duties.

He stepped side to avoid Michael's sword, silently hoping Michael would come to his senses and let him do what he had to. However, as the other's sword then clashed with his as he spun to defend himself, it was rather clear that wouldn't work.

"Don't do this, Michael," he pleaded quietly, trying to convince the other with his eyes. "Don't do this to yourself and Raphael."

The only response he got was a wound on his side as he just barely managed to avoid worse damage from Michael's lip. He bit his lip. He would have to end this quickly, or he wouldn't Fell Raphael in this corporation. If at all. Unholy weapons could kill an angel permanently, after all; perhaps holy weapons could do the same. He was good enough of a warrior, and the sword obeyed him like it'd been a part of his body, but he wasn't Michael. He hadn't fought with the Adversary and won. He couldn't fight this battle this way, either.

It pained him, but he had no other choice. Besides, by doing this Michael had gone against His will, and they both knew it. Allowing his eyes to slide completely to the level of Presence, he saw the light cord leaving Michael's aura. The holy flames around Michael's sword were still visible to him even though the sword wasn't, and he thus managed to avoid any further damage as he stepped to the side.

And aimed.

And struck.

Suddenly, there was no Presence. None at all. Not around Michael -- and not around himself. It hurt.

With a pained cry he stepped back, the sword dropping from his suddenly nerveless fingers.

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dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com

He'd tried not to stray too far, tried to make sure that Raphael would not change his mind and that nothing would go wrong, and yet Gabriel knew even before he'd reached the edge of the clearing, knew the instant he'd sensed Uriel's arrival, that it was too late.

For an instant, there was nothing but light in the clearing where the other angels stood, lucid and pure and almost too brilliant even for eyes that had seen Heaven.

For an instant, it was his Presence which was severed, his being which was rendered and torn and left suddenly bereft of everything he knew.

For an instant, the wind rushed past, the world shifted, and there was nothing that could stop it...

And then it was over, and the archangels stood, four auras pulsing bright with desperate fervor, perhaps one of the greatest gatherings of power in the cosmos.

Except that one of them was no longer an archangel.

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Reeling, Raphael tore his eyes away from the... the whatever that Michael had become and ran towards the one angelic presence which did not repulse him. He flung himself against Gabriel, his heart released and now pumping wildly, sobbing and shuddering.

"I told him to leave!" He screamed. "I told him not to, I begged him, pleaded with him, you must believe me! I told him I didn't want it, he pushed me out of the way...

Oh Gabriel... Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel, what have I done, what have we done, it's horrible, why did he have to, he didn't have to, why, why... my fault, it was my punishment, he shouldn't have, shouldn't have..." He gasped for air and looked up at Gabriel with bloodshot eyes.

Then he resumed babbling.

"I can't feel him any more, can't look, don't want to look, I can't see him like that, I won't, I refuse, but it feels so empty now that, that... He was the commander, what will we do, what can we, there's nothing right..."

Tears were dampening the front of Gabriel's shirt as Raphael cluthed it. His nose was running so it doubled as a tissue as well, but the healer was beyond embarassment.

"What do we do, what can we do, there's nothing and he's gone, he's gone, it isn't fair, didn't want this, I tried to stop it, please, please, why...

Michael..." He moaned and clung to Gabriel, weeping into his chest.

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demon-mictain.livejournal.com

Uriel swung his sword towards him -- except that it wasn't at him, missing him entirely. For a moment Michael wondered about this; had Uriel lost his skills completely? He used to be a good warrior in his own right, after all.

Then, however, Uriel's swords struck something. It wasn't him, yet he felt it, a tearing pain not in his body but his very essence, what human might have called their soul.

It was pain like nothing he'd ever encountered before; nothing in the numerous battles he'd participated in could have prepared him for this. It was like his heart had been torn away, twisted, and then torn apart while he could do nothing but stare helplessly. And, suddenly, he felt empty.

So very empty.

He was an angel, one of the first beings to ever come to be. His whole existence he had basked in His Presence, sometimes stronger, sometimes weaker, but always there, always a part of him. And now it was gone, gone, and along with it a part of him was gone, too. He could feel nothing but pain, hear nothing but his own scream, dropping his sword and falling to his knees. Somebody could have killed him right then and there and he wouldn't have cared; no, he would have thanked them for making the pain stop.

He clutched his arms and suddenly claws formed, sinking into his flesh, but he didn't even feel the pain over that of the Fall itself. He bit his lip and found that his newly formed fangs were more than well capable of sinking through it. He didn't care.

There was a fire burning inside him, taking away every bit of Presence in him, every good thing he'd ever felt suddenly torn from him until all he could remember, all he could feel was pain. And emptiness, a horrible emptiness where previously had been warmth, a reassuring power telling him that he was safe, he wasn't alone, everything was going to be all right.

Now he knew that everything was not going to be all right. Nothing was going to be all right. Not ever again.

He was alone, and he was empty, and it hurt, hurt, hurt...

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Shaking, Uriel forced himself to regain control of himself enough to pick up his sword again. He was in extreme pain, worse than he'd ever felt before, but he had a duty to fulfill. The Presence was now out of his reach, he knew it was there but he couldn't feel it, but he would survive. He had to. He'd come here for a reason.

Very, very slowly, he forced himself to go past Michael's kneeled form -- except that it wasn't Michael, not anymore -- and walk towards Raphael. Each step hurt -- each passing second hurt, the Presence no more surrounding him, supporting him -- but he still went on.

The most his eyes agreed to see were hazy forms only vaguely resembling angels, his eyes still almost completely adjusted to the level of Presence. He saw two auras, one blue and one yellow, streaked with white. This time, however, his vision was not blocked by his own aura, for it was gone, leaving him weak and pained, yet determined. This was his purpose, what he had been Created for. He would fulfill his duty no matter how much it hurt, no matter how badly he was torn apart himself every time he struck down an angel.

Yet in his mind he hoped, no, prayed that Raphael -- or perhaps Gabriel -- would do something, anything, that would stop this from happening. If he had to Fell another archangel, he would break completely. He couldn't survive that, he simply couldn't. Even now he only wanted to die.

"Raphael," he said quietly, raising his sword, forcing his hand to stay steady even though all he wanted to do was to break down and creep into some corner weeping and trembling. "Michael was not the one I came for."

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Raphael turned towards the other angel, tears still pouring down his face.

"Then you should have left him alone," he whispered.

Somehow the angel and his sword didn't feel threatening at all. His paranoia about Falling paled and dissolved in the face of his pain at seeing it happen to Michael, even after he warned him, even after he told him it was unnecessary.

He might not have been large but he was fast. Letting go of Gabriel, he skirted Uriel and ran to where Michael was on his knees.

"Michael!" He cried. "Why Michael why... you shouldn't have tried to stop him, I told you to forget me... I'm sorry Michael, you shouldn't have even been here..."

He stopped just short of the being and fell to his knees himself and stretched out a hand towards him.

"Michael...?" He asked in a small, timid voice.

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demon-mictain.livejournal.com

The worst pain slowly faded away, and he found himself somewhat capable of functioning again. There was still pain, but nothing he couldn't ignore. He was used to it. He had to, after all the battles he'd participated in. Forcing the pain aside he examined his body mentally. Everything seemed to be in order. He even managed to draw his claws back in, sealing the wounds on his arms -- he was far better at healing himself than he'd ever been at healing others. The fangs still remained, though, and he could feel them with his tongue. Even otherwise his body did not feel like his own; it was almost exactly like before but still not his.

There was still emptiness inside him, a huge void that felt impossible for him to ever fill. And it was. He knew very well it could never be filled again, and that thought hurt more than any pain that still lingered.

A voice broke into his thoughts, pleading, calling for a name that felt familiar to him. After a moment his mind was again functioning well enough to realize what it all meant. Very slowly he raised his head and opened his eyes, looking around.

There were tree angels in sight. Gabriel stood farthest from him, apparently quite stunned. Then there was Uriel, very pale, his robe torn and red on one side due to the wound caused in their battle. The angel still had a sword in his hand, looking determined although in pain. Well, that was all good and well. He deserved some pain for what he'd done.

Then there was Raphael, kneeling in front of him. The healer looked as beautiful as always, even though now his green eyes were wide with shock, traces of tears streaking the freckled face. Raphael, like everybody else, was staring at him.

"I'm not Michael," he said, and just like his body didn't feel like his own anymore, even his voice sounded odd in his ears. What he produced was more a growl than a proper sentence, and thus he said again, this time forcing himself to sound somewhat normal, "I'm not Michael." Fixing his eyes at Raphael, he continued, "Michael is dead. I am not him.

"I am --" A name rose to his lips, a name he had never known before but now recognized very well. His own name. "Mictain. My name is Mictain."

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Frightened, Raphael fell backwards and started to back away.

"No... NO!" The tears fell faster. "You're not... Michael, Michael... what have I done?! Your eyes Michael... your eyes..."

He shuddered then leapt to his feet and spread his wings.

"Michael... dead... No!" He trembled. "I'm sorry Michael... sorry I never said good bye, sorry for the role I played in this..." Then he turned on Uriel, picking up the sword but not lifting it.

"And I will never forgive you!" He screamed hysterically.

Then he fled, flying faster than he could ever remember, afraid and alone, back to the manor.

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Uriel watched as Raphael flew away, not attempting to follow him. Suddenly he felt no need to. No instinct was driving him towards the other archangel. Even his vision was slowly fading back to normal level.

Raphael's last words hurt more than he liked to admit. He felt like a mess, and those words hurt, hurt him almost as deeply as the lack of Presence he now felt. However, he knew that he would not have to Fell Raphael.

The change had happened before his arrival, he realized. When he had come there his instincts had not been driving him towards Raphael -- it had been Michael he'd been brought there to Fell. The letter had mentioned Raphael, but He must have known what Michael would do. Everything had gone just as He had willed -- as always.

"But I forgive you," he whispered, not sure if anybody could hear it and not caring. "He has forgiven you, Raphael, and thus I have no right to hold your past deeds against you."

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. Uncaring about Mictain, he turned towards Gabriel -- the demon would hardly have the strength to attack him right now. He had far too much experience about newly Fallen, and not even the most desperate -- or powerful -- one would attack him right after the Fall, not when Gabriel stood nearby.

"What happened here before my arrival?" he asked quietly, doing his best to keep the pain from overwhelming his mind completely. "Your presence here is hardly a coincidence... And Raphael has regretted, apologized, even. He shall not Fall."

From:

dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com

The newly Fallen angel absorbed all his vision, a form so familiar and yet so vastly separated from himself, and Gabriel found that it took some effort to turn his attention to Uriel. His gaze was raw, caught somewhere undefined between disbelief and accusation.

"He'd apologized," he managed, his voice sounding weak and stricken to his own ears. He wondered how Uriel could remain so calm, so quiet, when his own mortal form ached, stunned, as though he'd been tossed into raging waters with stinging force and was now drug down by cruel currents. "He'd apologized, he'd sought forgiveness, and Michael would have forgiven him, but you - they were supposed to be all right," he gasped, a sob catching in his throat, broken.

And then, quiet, cold. Confused. "How could you?"

But Gabriel waited for no answer, wanted no answer. Instead, he spread his wings, stained white and gold by the filtered morning light, and fled the scene, thinking only to make sure Raphael had returned to the manor. He'd never truly felt safe there, but now...

Now it hardly felt safe anywhere else.

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