Fic: A History of Heaven (Gabriel/Various Angels, PG-13 for this chapter) 19/59
For full notes and other chapters, please see the Masterpost.
Notes: There is one bad word and some mild dragon gore in this chapter.
In this story, before Lucifer fell, his name was Sammael. He was not Lucifer in Heaven.
There is one other canon character operating under an OC name, but I wish for his identity to remain unknown.
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Chapter word count: 3,938
Chapter Summary: Dragons are not easy to kill. In fact, even the angels don’t know how. The sword of an Archangel can hurt them, but it cannot end their lives. How else can the angels deal with these monsters?
CHAPTER 19:
Dragons!
In the end, seven dragons had erupted from their hibernations, roaring toward human civilizations with a long-banked rage fueling their flames. Four of them had headed Gabriel’s way, while the remaining three soared east toward Raphael. The angels and the dragons had warred with each other for weeks, clashing in superheated air, grace and swords ringing against hardened scales and slashing fangs. The monsters rested in shifts, always one waking to guard each sleeping, creating a constant onslaught that gave the angels no chance to rest. Gabriel cycled as many fresh garrisons as he could spare into the battle, but all of Heaven and Earth were suffering from the prolonged engagement. Five weeks into the fight, and Gabriel was mourning the deaths of sixteen of his brothers: two Dominions, nine Angels, and five Cherubim.
Now, Gabriel was standing back with Cariel and Zachariah, trying to strategize, while Barachiel took his turn commanding the Dominions and their garrisons. Gabriel hated asking the always-cheerful and loving Barachiel to be a battle commander, but every Seraph needed to pull their weight.
“This is ridiculous,” Zachariah growled, watching a full garrison charge one of the garrisons as it tried to escape toward land. “We can barely puncture their scales. We’re all going to die before we manage to kill even one.” His vessel was a paunchy baker, unsuited for fighting, but it didn’t matter once the angel was inside.
“Try to be a bit more negative.” Cariel folded his vessel’s thick arms, giving his brother a dry look with no venom in it. He was exhausted. All of Gabriel’s choir was. Angels needed no sleep, but they could suffer fatigue from prolonged exertion. These angels needed time to sit still and meditate, not another day of a futile battle.
“Do we have a plan, boss?” Cariel turned to Gabriel, trying to inject a bit of hope into his words.
“Of course we do!” Gabriel’s bright grin failed to reach his eyes. He himself had taken a new vessel for this battle. Sorcha deserved a chance to rest after their five day excursion, so he was now seated in the body of Atis, a temperamental cousin of hers. Atis did not smile as easily as Sorcha. His face creased in all the wrong places, and Gabriel already suspected his sour expressions would have been a better match for Raphael.
Atis was the only soul who knew for a fact that Gabriel was flying blind. There was no precedent for fighting four dragons at once. If Michael didn’t send word soon that he had been successful with Purgatory, Gabriel feared Zachariah’s prediction would come true.
“Is it to keep doing what we’ve been doing?” Zachariah asked. “Because that is working so well.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Zach. Best leave it for the professionals.”
“That’s enough!” Gabriel slashed a wing between his Seraphim before they could draw swords on each other. “We are all tired, but we can’t let that turn us on each other.”
“You haven’t exactly given us an alternative,” Zachariah pointed out. Cariel’s eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue.
“We’re getting the dragons off Earth. Today,” Gabriel declared. Even if Michael wasn’t ready with Purgatory yet, just moving the battle into the Borderlands would allow more angels to join and the current warriors to get a respite.
That was easier said than done, of course, but now that Gabriel had set a deadline, he could start making it possible. He was dealing with four dragons, black, gold, green, and red. Black was asleep in his human form, gently held in the claws of Gold. The three in their beast forms were streaming blood from a myriad of cuts, blood that boiled the skin of angels, and were breathing fire hot enough to melt grace upon contact. One dragon, Red, roared an order, and Green and Gold wheeled to attack an angelic formation together, scattering Cherubim before them. Red was the leader of the dragons, these monsters of heat and wings… fire and air. Gabriel’s core, and Raphael’s. An idea was starting to form in the Archangel’s mind, a crazy idea, impossible, really.
Those were the best kind.
Gabriel held up a hand to silence his Seraphim, closing his eyes and singing out along the mental frequency used only by the Archangels. Raphael? Bad time?
I’m fighting three dragons. What do you think? Raphael’s voice buzzed like a wasp inside Gabriel’s head.
I’ve got four, Gabriel reminded him. Count your blessings.
What do you want?
Any of your strategies work? When Raphael didn’t answer, Gabriel smiled ruefully. Mine neither. I’ve lost sixteen angels.
Three, Raphael admitted, though there was a hint of smugness in his voice that had Gabriel’s wings snapping angrily. Death wasn’t a contest!
A warm hand smoothed Gabriel’s ruffled feathers. Cariel. Gabriel recognized his second’s touch immediately and let it relax him. They were all tired, even Raphael. Fighting his twin right now wouldn’t do anyone any good. I have an idea.
A good one?
No. Gabriel outlined the gist of his plan to Raphael. His brother’s silence when he finished was expected. It even made Gabriel smile.
You’re right, Raphael finally said, his voice full of exasperation. That is the most ridiculous strategy I’ve heard yet.
Got anything better?
…no.
Now Gabriel transmitted his own smugness to Raphael. See you at Purgatory. Try not to die first.
You too. After all you put me through, only I get to kill you. Raphael abruptly ended the connection. Gabriel opened his eyes to see Zachariah and Cariel watching him with concern and veiled hope.
“How are we moving the dragons?” Zachariah asked hesitantly, unsure if he’d like the answer.
“Stupidly,” Gabriel answered, knowing his Seraphim would fight him if they knew the details. This time, his grin did reach his eyes. “Zachariah, relieve Barachiel. Cariel, cover me.” He drew his sword, the long silver blade glinting in the sunlight. “I’m gonna wrassle me a dragon!”
Gabriel took off before either Seraph could protest. He climbed high above the battle and then folded his wings into a sharp dive, streaking toward the dragons as a comet of fiery grace. Cariel flew close behind, in Gabriel’s slipstream, squinting against the wind.
The red dragon was unaware of the angels descending rapidly toward him until the green dragon bellowed a warning. Twisting in midair, Red’s tail whipped around. Gabriel was too close, moving too fast to dodge, and the hard line of muscles and scale slammed into his chest. Angels all around screamed: dragons burned so hot that direct contact with their hide could be dangerous even for an Archangel.
For any Archangel but Gabriel. The collision knocked the air from Atis’ lungs, splintering his ribs, but Gabriel didn’t need those. He wrapped arms and legs around the dragon’s tail and held on tightly. The heat from the dragon burned into him, seared through his grace to flash against his core of fire. Just like the dragons, Gabriel was built around flame and heat. The dragon’s energy fed directly into Gabriel’s spirit, recharging his tired grace and reigniting the fire in Gabriel’s eyes.
Gabriel drove his sword into the dragon’s tail and used it as an anchor to pull himself forward. Red roared and twisted, trying to shake the angel loose. Gabriel scrambled up the dragon’s back, clinging to his scales or spine ridges, driving his sword in whenever Red tried to throw him off with a roll or twist. Cariel swooped around Gabriel, calling in a full garrison of Angels to help thwart Green or Gold’s attempts to rip Gabriel from Red’s back. Throughout it all, Gabriel laughed, mad whoops of hysteria that were entirely out of place in the Throne Room but were perfectly fitting for the battlefield.
Red rolled again, and Gabriel clung to his sword, buried in the dragon’s back. His wings beat against the steaming air, keeping him pressed close to the rough scaled. Above him (below him?), the battle raged on over the broad stretch of waves.
A sudden smear of darkness came roaring toward him. The black dragon was awake and in his dragon form once more, huge jaws stretching wide. Gabriel swore in three languages, shifting his right hand off his sword to materialize a smaller knife of grace. It wouldn’t do much good against the dragon’s hard scales, but maybe he could get a slash in the dragon’s mouth before it ate him.
An Angel zipped between Gabriel and the black dragon, screaming a war cry as he swung his blade.
“Castiel!”
Gabriel shouted for the young angel as Black’s jaws closed around sharp wings, crunching through bone and grace. Castiel screamed as the dragon threw him aside, his pain echoed by Gabriel, helplessly watching above. A blond angel broke ranks to dive after his falling brother, but Gabriel’s view was blocked by Cariel and his angels, their blades biting into Black’s snout, driving him back.
Was Castiel safe, or had Gabriel lost his seventeenth angel? He didn’t have the time to seek out his brother’s grace to confirm. Red was undulating above him, trying to work Gabriel’s sword free. The Archangel slammed his knife between two thick scales and beat wings, kicking at the dragon’s back. “Turn over, you fucking monster!”
Red roared obscenities and breathed fire, scorching the air. Gabriel roared right back in the dragon’s tongue, drawing his sword out and driving it a little higher. Fresh, steaming blood dripped from the wound and across Gabriel’s face. The liquid boiled on his skin, and his grace burned even hotter. This was taking too long! Too many angels had already died in this fight. Gabriel wasn’t going to lose another one.
With his lips drawn back in a fierce snarl, Gabriel angled his wings and flew, his feet barely needed as he propelled himself upside-down along the dragon’s back. He ripped his blades out by the force of his movement, dodging the dragon’s powerful wings. A fireball exploded over his back-apparently dragons were as immune to flames as Gabriel was-setting his wings on fire. The Archangel whooped in laughter, flaring his wings wide, drawing the flames into his feathers. Just as Michael’s wings turned into steel in his battle form, Gabriel’s wings could morph into sheets of flame. It was harder to fly on wings of fire, but the damage he could deal with the powerful appendages were often worth the slower speeds. Raphael and Sammael had battle-forms as well, with Raphael’s wings turning into huge arcs of lightning, while Sammael’s wings froze into deadly rows of icicles. All other angels simply had a sharp edge to their feathers they could use when battling.
Gabriel beat his flaming wings against the dragon, howling a war cry that was echoed by his choir. He pushed off against the dragon’s back, trying one more surge to run up the beast’s neck, driving his blades into the base of the dragon’s skull.
Red screamed and thrashed, righting himself in the air. Gabriel straddled the dragon’s neck, squeezing with his thighs to stay in place. “That hurt a little? Good!” He twisted his sword with a snarl, driving it further through flesh and bone. “That’s for all my brothers you’ve killed!”
Red breathed fire again, but Gabriel yanked the deeply-buried sword sideways, coupling the action with a powerful beat of his wings. Red’s head jerked to the left, his fireball splashing harmlessly against Green’s chest instead of the angels he had been aiming at. His whole body followed his head, and Gabriel drummed his heels against the dragon’s scales in pleasure at his success. “Just like riding a horse!” He leaned back, hauling on the sword to point Red’s head upward. “C’mon, big boy. Your momma’s waiting for you!”
Red snarled and twisted, but his flight followed his head, and Gabriel was in control of that. The dragon had to beat his wings to stay airborn, but every beat propelled him upwards. Black, Green, and Gold circled below, harried by the angels and crying their confusion.
Come on, come on…! Gabriel needed them to follow Red. None of his other angels could ride a dragon like this-none of them had elemental cores. Raphael, as Archangel of the Air and of Healing, could maybe manage, but even he would be battling the constant threat of being burnt by the dragon’s heat.
Gold was the first to break upward, flying with a fierce purpose. He tore above Red and dropped down, landing on the dragon’s back in human form.
Shit.
Red was trying to toss his head, and Gabriel was already using both hands to hold him steady. He could use his wings to hold Gold back, but he risked countering Red’s upward movement with his own wingbeats. Gold’s main weapon as a human was his heat, which would strengthen Gabriel, but the dragon could also try to physically throw him off his brother and wrest control back. A spell maybe could work, but verbal-only spells were notorious for not performing as expected.
Gold grinned sharply as he grabbed at one of Gabriel’s wings, the fire not bothering him in the least. Gabriel jerked it sharply and yelped as the dragon proved stronger, nearly wrenching it from its socket. The angel battered the dragon as best he could with his lesser wings, the flames doing nothing more than singeing the dragon’s clothes, but Gold held tight.
“Gabriel!” Cariel’s arrival was heralded by a rush of feathers. Zachariah and Barachiel were right behind him. “Pull in your wings, and forgive us!”
The three Seraphim dove toward Gabriel’s back. Zachariah’s sword was out, slicing down. Gabriel yanked his free wings forward.
Sudden, blinding pain flashed through his wing, a flare of pure grace exploding from the wound. Gabriel screamed, yanking back hard on the sword still embedded in Red’s head. Behind him, Cariel and Barachiel plucked Gold from Red’s back and dropped him over the empty air, their hands instantly charred from just the few seconds of contact. Gabriel’s severed wing turned to ash in Gold’s hands moments before Gold transformed back into his reptilian form.
Hissing through clenched teeth, Gabriel forced his left hand to uncurl from the sword and shoved it down the flat of his blade, pushing it into Red’s head. Hot dragon blood bubbled through his fingers as muscles parted and bone cracked. Gabriel grabbed a handful of sticky, squishy brain and pulled with his grace. His fire and the dragon’s clashed, pulled apart, raged together. Gabriel was shoulder-deep inside a dragon’s skull and glowing from the overload of sheer power.
Red-hot light raced up Gabriel’s arm, and he could feel the dragon launching into his own mind. Gabriel flung his grace around the beast’s consciousness. Gotcha! Sorry, Red, but it’s an angel-eat-dragon world today!
Keeping the dragon’s mind firmly leashed, Gabriel rushed down the new connection into Red’s brain. He opened reptilian eyes and beat leather wings against the sky. Atis’ weight on his neck was insignificant but awkwardly located. Far more distressing were the twin spikes of agony from his arm and sword. He felt a peculiar churning in his gut and vomited flames, melting an innocent cloud.
“Help me!” Gabriel shouted through Red’s throat. The words came out as a draconic roar. Three dragons below bellowed reassurances, promises of vengeance, as they all rocketed upward. Gabriel roared again and forced enormous wings to beat harder, propelling Red away from his pursuing brothers.
Eight Dominions, two per dragon, flickered into existence above the reptiles. They folded their grace into the Borderlands and pulled, ripping open a dimension gate to the in-between world. Red/Gabriel shot through first, with Gold right on his tail and Black and Green immediately behind.
As soon as the greyness of the Borderlands closed around him, Gabriel could hear the horns of Michael’s garrisons. Two fresh garrisons of Angels came flying toward him, creating a corridor to herd the dragons down, leading them toward Purgatory. Gabriel’s angels shed their vessels as they raced after the dragons, bolstered by the presence of another choir. A bright light ahead called to Gabriel. His brother was there.
Gabriel reached out for Michael, gasping as the stretch strained his hold on both Red and Atis. Ready?
Yes, just, Michael called back. Raphael is almost-
Gabriel had to drop his connection with Michael as Red thrashed against his grace, nearly breaking his hold. His grace was still overcharged, but the throbbing in his borrowed head was wreaking havoc with his concentration. He could hear shouting, angels calling to each other, and then in front of him suddenly was another red dragon, an Archangel snarled among his wings. Raphael! The two dragons nearly collided, but Raphael managed to swerve away.
“Now!”
Greyness split open at Michael’s shout, a gaping maw of darkness to Gabriel’s left. Twenty armored Seraphim held the hole open, straining at the edges. Raphael was closer, spurring his dragon in before leaping away from its wings. The dragon shrieked as it fell into Purgatory. Michael and his remaining Seraphim darted across the portal, slashing at inky tendrils that tried to escape. Gabriel wheeled to the left and roared for the other dragons to follow. The ones chasing Raphael turned toward him as well as Gabriel folded his leathery wings, diving toward the pit. He had to time this just right… Now! Gabriel released Red and tried to leap away, but the dragon sunk claws into Gabriel’s mind, screaming rage directly into the Archangel’s brain. He was frozen on Red’s back, unable to release…
“Gabriel!”
Purgatory welled around him, and Gabriel gave a shout of fear. Strong fingers grabbed one his wings and yanked back, straining the muscle and wrenching the joint. Red tumbled into the darkness, the other dragons following with two choirs of Seraphim at their backs.
“Close it!”
Gabriel felt Michael’s voice more than he heard it, a deep rumble behind him. Michael was holding him, Michael’s hand was still clamped around his wing, and Michael’s grace was cocooning his overactive one. Gabriel’s ears were ringing. His head felt split in two, the stump of his severed wing burned in agony, the rest of his flight muscles screaming from the strain, and his grace roiled within him, too much energy against the restraints of his vessel. Atis was sweating, his skin slowly reddening with the excess heat.
Michael dropped to his knees, dragging Gabriel with him. He was rumbling, speaking again, but the sounds held no meaning for Gabriel. His head lolled against Michael’s chest. When Raphael appeared above him, lightning wings sparking brightly, Gabriel jumped in surprise.
Raphael’s grace was worn and haggard, a sluggish trickle of energy as opposed to Gabriel’s raging inferno, but he still cupped his hands against Gabriel’s face. Gabriel closed his eyes as Raphael’s electric grace touched his. The excess energy in his body surged forward, flooding his twin. Raphael jerked against the heat but did not let go. As Gabriel’s partner, Raphael could share his grace without serious ill effects, even though their elemental cores were so different. He could siphon Gabriel’s excess energy into himself and use it as his own.
As Gabriel’s grace drained to a more normal level, his senses returned. He could hear Michael directing the Seraphim, murmured acceptances of orders, and Raphael muttering under his breath about stupid brothers possessing dragons.
“Not stupid,” Gabriel mumbled. “Brilliant. Pulled seven dragons off Earth forever.” He held up one hand, trying to show seven fingers, but Atis only had five. Frowning, Gabriel split his fingers until he could hold up seven.
Raphael snorted and pressed Gabriel’s fingers back together. “Just because it worked doesn’t make it smart,” he retorted. “I thought I was going to lose my arms!”
“But you didn’t.” Gabriel rubbed his eyes and reached up to cover Raphael’s hand on his face with his own. His brother was flushed with the extra grace now, just about fully recharged. Gabriel had restored him, and now Raphael was returning the favor, working the spiky headache out of Gabriel’s mind.
“You lost a wing!” Michael exclaimed, his hands finding the stump where Zachariah’s sword had sliced through flame and grace. “And this… this was done by an angel?”
“On my command.” Cariel dropped to his knees beside the three Archangels, pressing his forehead down, unusually submissive before the trio. “A dragon had his wing; we had to free him or the plan would have been ruined. Forgive me, brothers. I reacted without proper thought.”
Gabriel reached for Cariel before Michael could declare a punishment, laying his hand on his Seraph’s head. “You did what I would have ordered, if I had the time to think about it. Thank you. Please give Zachariah my gratitude.”
Raphael grumbled, turning Gabriel in Michael’s hold to reach the ruined wing. “So says the one who doesn’t have to rebuild this. You’ll take decades to fully heal.”
“Gather the choirs,” Michael instructed the nearby Seraphim. “Naomi. Take the angels home, have Alastair debrief them as instructed. No angel present here should speak with one not here until Alastair has had a chance to give them direction. Assess the damage. I will have your report in an hour.”
By the time the rustling of feathers faded away, Gabriel could sit up on his own again. He flexed his shortened wing, extinguishing the burning flames to return to his usual feathers, and nodded gratitude at Raphael. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” At Michael’s pointed look, Raphael flared his wings to show his lack of injuries. “The dragon scorched me, but Marmoniel kept healing me. Michael. Your wing.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Michael folded his wings back, but Gabriel did not miss the flinch of pain in his grace. Nor could he miss the black stripes pained across Michael’s spirit, his spirit beneath the protection of his grace.
“What happened!?” Gabriel grabbed Michael’s arm, staring in horror at the brands around his brother’s wrists. Both wrists, ankles, neck, waist, wings-something had tried to bind the first angel.
Michael gingerly withdrew his limb and rose to his feet. “The Leviathan of Purgatory and I have… a history. When they felt me so close, they could not resist the chance to drag me down with them.”
“Do they hurt?” Gabriel pushed himself to his feet. Beside him, Raphael did the same, his hands clenched so as not to reach for his injured brother.
“These marks do not,” Michael assured the twins. He wrapped a lesser wing around each when they didn’t stop their scrutiny. “They are just stains, like ink, and they will fade soon enough. They cannot hurt me anymore than the color of your hair can hurt you.” He gave one of Gabriel’s red curls a tug. “I promise you, my wing is the only injury I still bear.”
“Then let me-” Raphael reached for Michael’s wing, but Michael gently pushed him aside.
“No. Not until Sammael comes home. And speaking of home, we should return. Are the two of you fit to fly?”
“Yes Michael,” the twins chorused. Michael gave them both one last caress with his wings before taking off toward Heaven.
Michael didn’t fly like he used to. He kept his broken primary wing tucked in against his back, relying on his hundreds of other wings instead. His flight was economical now, straightforward, not the graceful dance he used to share with Sammael. Gabriel had to tamp down on his sadness before it showed. Michael really was missing a huge piece of himself without Sammael. The sooner the brothers could reconcile, the better.
Next...
Notes: There is one bad word and some mild dragon gore in this chapter.
In this story, before Lucifer fell, his name was Sammael. He was not Lucifer in Heaven.
There is one other canon character operating under an OC name, but I wish for his identity to remain unknown.
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Chapter word count: 3,938
Chapter Summary: Dragons are not easy to kill. In fact, even the angels don’t know how. The sword of an Archangel can hurt them, but it cannot end their lives. How else can the angels deal with these monsters?
CHAPTER 19:
Dragons!
In the end, seven dragons had erupted from their hibernations, roaring toward human civilizations with a long-banked rage fueling their flames. Four of them had headed Gabriel’s way, while the remaining three soared east toward Raphael. The angels and the dragons had warred with each other for weeks, clashing in superheated air, grace and swords ringing against hardened scales and slashing fangs. The monsters rested in shifts, always one waking to guard each sleeping, creating a constant onslaught that gave the angels no chance to rest. Gabriel cycled as many fresh garrisons as he could spare into the battle, but all of Heaven and Earth were suffering from the prolonged engagement. Five weeks into the fight, and Gabriel was mourning the deaths of sixteen of his brothers: two Dominions, nine Angels, and five Cherubim.
Now, Gabriel was standing back with Cariel and Zachariah, trying to strategize, while Barachiel took his turn commanding the Dominions and their garrisons. Gabriel hated asking the always-cheerful and loving Barachiel to be a battle commander, but every Seraph needed to pull their weight.
“This is ridiculous,” Zachariah growled, watching a full garrison charge one of the garrisons as it tried to escape toward land. “We can barely puncture their scales. We’re all going to die before we manage to kill even one.” His vessel was a paunchy baker, unsuited for fighting, but it didn’t matter once the angel was inside.
“Try to be a bit more negative.” Cariel folded his vessel’s thick arms, giving his brother a dry look with no venom in it. He was exhausted. All of Gabriel’s choir was. Angels needed no sleep, but they could suffer fatigue from prolonged exertion. These angels needed time to sit still and meditate, not another day of a futile battle.
“Do we have a plan, boss?” Cariel turned to Gabriel, trying to inject a bit of hope into his words.
“Of course we do!” Gabriel’s bright grin failed to reach his eyes. He himself had taken a new vessel for this battle. Sorcha deserved a chance to rest after their five day excursion, so he was now seated in the body of Atis, a temperamental cousin of hers. Atis did not smile as easily as Sorcha. His face creased in all the wrong places, and Gabriel already suspected his sour expressions would have been a better match for Raphael.
Atis was the only soul who knew for a fact that Gabriel was flying blind. There was no precedent for fighting four dragons at once. If Michael didn’t send word soon that he had been successful with Purgatory, Gabriel feared Zachariah’s prediction would come true.
“Is it to keep doing what we’ve been doing?” Zachariah asked. “Because that is working so well.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Zach. Best leave it for the professionals.”
“That’s enough!” Gabriel slashed a wing between his Seraphim before they could draw swords on each other. “We are all tired, but we can’t let that turn us on each other.”
“You haven’t exactly given us an alternative,” Zachariah pointed out. Cariel’s eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue.
“We’re getting the dragons off Earth. Today,” Gabriel declared. Even if Michael wasn’t ready with Purgatory yet, just moving the battle into the Borderlands would allow more angels to join and the current warriors to get a respite.
That was easier said than done, of course, but now that Gabriel had set a deadline, he could start making it possible. He was dealing with four dragons, black, gold, green, and red. Black was asleep in his human form, gently held in the claws of Gold. The three in their beast forms were streaming blood from a myriad of cuts, blood that boiled the skin of angels, and were breathing fire hot enough to melt grace upon contact. One dragon, Red, roared an order, and Green and Gold wheeled to attack an angelic formation together, scattering Cherubim before them. Red was the leader of the dragons, these monsters of heat and wings… fire and air. Gabriel’s core, and Raphael’s. An idea was starting to form in the Archangel’s mind, a crazy idea, impossible, really.
Those were the best kind.
Gabriel held up a hand to silence his Seraphim, closing his eyes and singing out along the mental frequency used only by the Archangels. Raphael? Bad time?
I’m fighting three dragons. What do you think? Raphael’s voice buzzed like a wasp inside Gabriel’s head.
I’ve got four, Gabriel reminded him. Count your blessings.
What do you want?
Any of your strategies work? When Raphael didn’t answer, Gabriel smiled ruefully. Mine neither. I’ve lost sixteen angels.
Three, Raphael admitted, though there was a hint of smugness in his voice that had Gabriel’s wings snapping angrily. Death wasn’t a contest!
A warm hand smoothed Gabriel’s ruffled feathers. Cariel. Gabriel recognized his second’s touch immediately and let it relax him. They were all tired, even Raphael. Fighting his twin right now wouldn’t do anyone any good. I have an idea.
A good one?
No. Gabriel outlined the gist of his plan to Raphael. His brother’s silence when he finished was expected. It even made Gabriel smile.
You’re right, Raphael finally said, his voice full of exasperation. That is the most ridiculous strategy I’ve heard yet.
Got anything better?
…no.
Now Gabriel transmitted his own smugness to Raphael. See you at Purgatory. Try not to die first.
You too. After all you put me through, only I get to kill you. Raphael abruptly ended the connection. Gabriel opened his eyes to see Zachariah and Cariel watching him with concern and veiled hope.
“How are we moving the dragons?” Zachariah asked hesitantly, unsure if he’d like the answer.
“Stupidly,” Gabriel answered, knowing his Seraphim would fight him if they knew the details. This time, his grin did reach his eyes. “Zachariah, relieve Barachiel. Cariel, cover me.” He drew his sword, the long silver blade glinting in the sunlight. “I’m gonna wrassle me a dragon!”
Gabriel took off before either Seraph could protest. He climbed high above the battle and then folded his wings into a sharp dive, streaking toward the dragons as a comet of fiery grace. Cariel flew close behind, in Gabriel’s slipstream, squinting against the wind.
The red dragon was unaware of the angels descending rapidly toward him until the green dragon bellowed a warning. Twisting in midair, Red’s tail whipped around. Gabriel was too close, moving too fast to dodge, and the hard line of muscles and scale slammed into his chest. Angels all around screamed: dragons burned so hot that direct contact with their hide could be dangerous even for an Archangel.
For any Archangel but Gabriel. The collision knocked the air from Atis’ lungs, splintering his ribs, but Gabriel didn’t need those. He wrapped arms and legs around the dragon’s tail and held on tightly. The heat from the dragon burned into him, seared through his grace to flash against his core of fire. Just like the dragons, Gabriel was built around flame and heat. The dragon’s energy fed directly into Gabriel’s spirit, recharging his tired grace and reigniting the fire in Gabriel’s eyes.
Gabriel drove his sword into the dragon’s tail and used it as an anchor to pull himself forward. Red roared and twisted, trying to shake the angel loose. Gabriel scrambled up the dragon’s back, clinging to his scales or spine ridges, driving his sword in whenever Red tried to throw him off with a roll or twist. Cariel swooped around Gabriel, calling in a full garrison of Angels to help thwart Green or Gold’s attempts to rip Gabriel from Red’s back. Throughout it all, Gabriel laughed, mad whoops of hysteria that were entirely out of place in the Throne Room but were perfectly fitting for the battlefield.
Red rolled again, and Gabriel clung to his sword, buried in the dragon’s back. His wings beat against the steaming air, keeping him pressed close to the rough scaled. Above him (below him?), the battle raged on over the broad stretch of waves.
A sudden smear of darkness came roaring toward him. The black dragon was awake and in his dragon form once more, huge jaws stretching wide. Gabriel swore in three languages, shifting his right hand off his sword to materialize a smaller knife of grace. It wouldn’t do much good against the dragon’s hard scales, but maybe he could get a slash in the dragon’s mouth before it ate him.
An Angel zipped between Gabriel and the black dragon, screaming a war cry as he swung his blade.
“Castiel!”
Gabriel shouted for the young angel as Black’s jaws closed around sharp wings, crunching through bone and grace. Castiel screamed as the dragon threw him aside, his pain echoed by Gabriel, helplessly watching above. A blond angel broke ranks to dive after his falling brother, but Gabriel’s view was blocked by Cariel and his angels, their blades biting into Black’s snout, driving him back.
Was Castiel safe, or had Gabriel lost his seventeenth angel? He didn’t have the time to seek out his brother’s grace to confirm. Red was undulating above him, trying to work Gabriel’s sword free. The Archangel slammed his knife between two thick scales and beat wings, kicking at the dragon’s back. “Turn over, you fucking monster!”
Red roared obscenities and breathed fire, scorching the air. Gabriel roared right back in the dragon’s tongue, drawing his sword out and driving it a little higher. Fresh, steaming blood dripped from the wound and across Gabriel’s face. The liquid boiled on his skin, and his grace burned even hotter. This was taking too long! Too many angels had already died in this fight. Gabriel wasn’t going to lose another one.
With his lips drawn back in a fierce snarl, Gabriel angled his wings and flew, his feet barely needed as he propelled himself upside-down along the dragon’s back. He ripped his blades out by the force of his movement, dodging the dragon’s powerful wings. A fireball exploded over his back-apparently dragons were as immune to flames as Gabriel was-setting his wings on fire. The Archangel whooped in laughter, flaring his wings wide, drawing the flames into his feathers. Just as Michael’s wings turned into steel in his battle form, Gabriel’s wings could morph into sheets of flame. It was harder to fly on wings of fire, but the damage he could deal with the powerful appendages were often worth the slower speeds. Raphael and Sammael had battle-forms as well, with Raphael’s wings turning into huge arcs of lightning, while Sammael’s wings froze into deadly rows of icicles. All other angels simply had a sharp edge to their feathers they could use when battling.
Gabriel beat his flaming wings against the dragon, howling a war cry that was echoed by his choir. He pushed off against the dragon’s back, trying one more surge to run up the beast’s neck, driving his blades into the base of the dragon’s skull.
Red screamed and thrashed, righting himself in the air. Gabriel straddled the dragon’s neck, squeezing with his thighs to stay in place. “That hurt a little? Good!” He twisted his sword with a snarl, driving it further through flesh and bone. “That’s for all my brothers you’ve killed!”
Red breathed fire again, but Gabriel yanked the deeply-buried sword sideways, coupling the action with a powerful beat of his wings. Red’s head jerked to the left, his fireball splashing harmlessly against Green’s chest instead of the angels he had been aiming at. His whole body followed his head, and Gabriel drummed his heels against the dragon’s scales in pleasure at his success. “Just like riding a horse!” He leaned back, hauling on the sword to point Red’s head upward. “C’mon, big boy. Your momma’s waiting for you!”
Red snarled and twisted, but his flight followed his head, and Gabriel was in control of that. The dragon had to beat his wings to stay airborn, but every beat propelled him upwards. Black, Green, and Gold circled below, harried by the angels and crying their confusion.
Come on, come on…! Gabriel needed them to follow Red. None of his other angels could ride a dragon like this-none of them had elemental cores. Raphael, as Archangel of the Air and of Healing, could maybe manage, but even he would be battling the constant threat of being burnt by the dragon’s heat.
Gold was the first to break upward, flying with a fierce purpose. He tore above Red and dropped down, landing on the dragon’s back in human form.
Shit.
Red was trying to toss his head, and Gabriel was already using both hands to hold him steady. He could use his wings to hold Gold back, but he risked countering Red’s upward movement with his own wingbeats. Gold’s main weapon as a human was his heat, which would strengthen Gabriel, but the dragon could also try to physically throw him off his brother and wrest control back. A spell maybe could work, but verbal-only spells were notorious for not performing as expected.
Gold grinned sharply as he grabbed at one of Gabriel’s wings, the fire not bothering him in the least. Gabriel jerked it sharply and yelped as the dragon proved stronger, nearly wrenching it from its socket. The angel battered the dragon as best he could with his lesser wings, the flames doing nothing more than singeing the dragon’s clothes, but Gold held tight.
“Gabriel!” Cariel’s arrival was heralded by a rush of feathers. Zachariah and Barachiel were right behind him. “Pull in your wings, and forgive us!”
The three Seraphim dove toward Gabriel’s back. Zachariah’s sword was out, slicing down. Gabriel yanked his free wings forward.
Sudden, blinding pain flashed through his wing, a flare of pure grace exploding from the wound. Gabriel screamed, yanking back hard on the sword still embedded in Red’s head. Behind him, Cariel and Barachiel plucked Gold from Red’s back and dropped him over the empty air, their hands instantly charred from just the few seconds of contact. Gabriel’s severed wing turned to ash in Gold’s hands moments before Gold transformed back into his reptilian form.
Hissing through clenched teeth, Gabriel forced his left hand to uncurl from the sword and shoved it down the flat of his blade, pushing it into Red’s head. Hot dragon blood bubbled through his fingers as muscles parted and bone cracked. Gabriel grabbed a handful of sticky, squishy brain and pulled with his grace. His fire and the dragon’s clashed, pulled apart, raged together. Gabriel was shoulder-deep inside a dragon’s skull and glowing from the overload of sheer power.
Red-hot light raced up Gabriel’s arm, and he could feel the dragon launching into his own mind. Gabriel flung his grace around the beast’s consciousness. Gotcha! Sorry, Red, but it’s an angel-eat-dragon world today!
Keeping the dragon’s mind firmly leashed, Gabriel rushed down the new connection into Red’s brain. He opened reptilian eyes and beat leather wings against the sky. Atis’ weight on his neck was insignificant but awkwardly located. Far more distressing were the twin spikes of agony from his arm and sword. He felt a peculiar churning in his gut and vomited flames, melting an innocent cloud.
“Help me!” Gabriel shouted through Red’s throat. The words came out as a draconic roar. Three dragons below bellowed reassurances, promises of vengeance, as they all rocketed upward. Gabriel roared again and forced enormous wings to beat harder, propelling Red away from his pursuing brothers.
Eight Dominions, two per dragon, flickered into existence above the reptiles. They folded their grace into the Borderlands and pulled, ripping open a dimension gate to the in-between world. Red/Gabriel shot through first, with Gold right on his tail and Black and Green immediately behind.
As soon as the greyness of the Borderlands closed around him, Gabriel could hear the horns of Michael’s garrisons. Two fresh garrisons of Angels came flying toward him, creating a corridor to herd the dragons down, leading them toward Purgatory. Gabriel’s angels shed their vessels as they raced after the dragons, bolstered by the presence of another choir. A bright light ahead called to Gabriel. His brother was there.
Gabriel reached out for Michael, gasping as the stretch strained his hold on both Red and Atis. Ready?
Yes, just, Michael called back. Raphael is almost-
Gabriel had to drop his connection with Michael as Red thrashed against his grace, nearly breaking his hold. His grace was still overcharged, but the throbbing in his borrowed head was wreaking havoc with his concentration. He could hear shouting, angels calling to each other, and then in front of him suddenly was another red dragon, an Archangel snarled among his wings. Raphael! The two dragons nearly collided, but Raphael managed to swerve away.
“Now!”
Greyness split open at Michael’s shout, a gaping maw of darkness to Gabriel’s left. Twenty armored Seraphim held the hole open, straining at the edges. Raphael was closer, spurring his dragon in before leaping away from its wings. The dragon shrieked as it fell into Purgatory. Michael and his remaining Seraphim darted across the portal, slashing at inky tendrils that tried to escape. Gabriel wheeled to the left and roared for the other dragons to follow. The ones chasing Raphael turned toward him as well as Gabriel folded his leathery wings, diving toward the pit. He had to time this just right… Now! Gabriel released Red and tried to leap away, but the dragon sunk claws into Gabriel’s mind, screaming rage directly into the Archangel’s brain. He was frozen on Red’s back, unable to release…
“Gabriel!”
Purgatory welled around him, and Gabriel gave a shout of fear. Strong fingers grabbed one his wings and yanked back, straining the muscle and wrenching the joint. Red tumbled into the darkness, the other dragons following with two choirs of Seraphim at their backs.
“Close it!”
Gabriel felt Michael’s voice more than he heard it, a deep rumble behind him. Michael was holding him, Michael’s hand was still clamped around his wing, and Michael’s grace was cocooning his overactive one. Gabriel’s ears were ringing. His head felt split in two, the stump of his severed wing burned in agony, the rest of his flight muscles screaming from the strain, and his grace roiled within him, too much energy against the restraints of his vessel. Atis was sweating, his skin slowly reddening with the excess heat.
Michael dropped to his knees, dragging Gabriel with him. He was rumbling, speaking again, but the sounds held no meaning for Gabriel. His head lolled against Michael’s chest. When Raphael appeared above him, lightning wings sparking brightly, Gabriel jumped in surprise.
Raphael’s grace was worn and haggard, a sluggish trickle of energy as opposed to Gabriel’s raging inferno, but he still cupped his hands against Gabriel’s face. Gabriel closed his eyes as Raphael’s electric grace touched his. The excess energy in his body surged forward, flooding his twin. Raphael jerked against the heat but did not let go. As Gabriel’s partner, Raphael could share his grace without serious ill effects, even though their elemental cores were so different. He could siphon Gabriel’s excess energy into himself and use it as his own.
As Gabriel’s grace drained to a more normal level, his senses returned. He could hear Michael directing the Seraphim, murmured acceptances of orders, and Raphael muttering under his breath about stupid brothers possessing dragons.
“Not stupid,” Gabriel mumbled. “Brilliant. Pulled seven dragons off Earth forever.” He held up one hand, trying to show seven fingers, but Atis only had five. Frowning, Gabriel split his fingers until he could hold up seven.
Raphael snorted and pressed Gabriel’s fingers back together. “Just because it worked doesn’t make it smart,” he retorted. “I thought I was going to lose my arms!”
“But you didn’t.” Gabriel rubbed his eyes and reached up to cover Raphael’s hand on his face with his own. His brother was flushed with the extra grace now, just about fully recharged. Gabriel had restored him, and now Raphael was returning the favor, working the spiky headache out of Gabriel’s mind.
“You lost a wing!” Michael exclaimed, his hands finding the stump where Zachariah’s sword had sliced through flame and grace. “And this… this was done by an angel?”
“On my command.” Cariel dropped to his knees beside the three Archangels, pressing his forehead down, unusually submissive before the trio. “A dragon had his wing; we had to free him or the plan would have been ruined. Forgive me, brothers. I reacted without proper thought.”
Gabriel reached for Cariel before Michael could declare a punishment, laying his hand on his Seraph’s head. “You did what I would have ordered, if I had the time to think about it. Thank you. Please give Zachariah my gratitude.”
Raphael grumbled, turning Gabriel in Michael’s hold to reach the ruined wing. “So says the one who doesn’t have to rebuild this. You’ll take decades to fully heal.”
“Gather the choirs,” Michael instructed the nearby Seraphim. “Naomi. Take the angels home, have Alastair debrief them as instructed. No angel present here should speak with one not here until Alastair has had a chance to give them direction. Assess the damage. I will have your report in an hour.”
By the time the rustling of feathers faded away, Gabriel could sit up on his own again. He flexed his shortened wing, extinguishing the burning flames to return to his usual feathers, and nodded gratitude at Raphael. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” At Michael’s pointed look, Raphael flared his wings to show his lack of injuries. “The dragon scorched me, but Marmoniel kept healing me. Michael. Your wing.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Michael folded his wings back, but Gabriel did not miss the flinch of pain in his grace. Nor could he miss the black stripes pained across Michael’s spirit, his spirit beneath the protection of his grace.
“What happened!?” Gabriel grabbed Michael’s arm, staring in horror at the brands around his brother’s wrists. Both wrists, ankles, neck, waist, wings-something had tried to bind the first angel.
Michael gingerly withdrew his limb and rose to his feet. “The Leviathan of Purgatory and I have… a history. When they felt me so close, they could not resist the chance to drag me down with them.”
“Do they hurt?” Gabriel pushed himself to his feet. Beside him, Raphael did the same, his hands clenched so as not to reach for his injured brother.
“These marks do not,” Michael assured the twins. He wrapped a lesser wing around each when they didn’t stop their scrutiny. “They are just stains, like ink, and they will fade soon enough. They cannot hurt me anymore than the color of your hair can hurt you.” He gave one of Gabriel’s red curls a tug. “I promise you, my wing is the only injury I still bear.”
“Then let me-” Raphael reached for Michael’s wing, but Michael gently pushed him aside.
“No. Not until Sammael comes home. And speaking of home, we should return. Are the two of you fit to fly?”
“Yes Michael,” the twins chorused. Michael gave them both one last caress with his wings before taking off toward Heaven.
Michael didn’t fly like he used to. He kept his broken primary wing tucked in against his back, relying on his hundreds of other wings instead. His flight was economical now, straightforward, not the graceful dance he used to share with Sammael. Gabriel had to tamp down on his sadness before it showed. Michael really was missing a huge piece of himself without Sammael. The sooner the brothers could reconcile, the better.
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