Benjamin for @heaven-ecologist’s Angels Week, prompt Vessel. Because they’re each other’s one and only they’re married in an earthly sense and sharing a body and consciousness which ties them together in a more heavenly way. And now they spend their time absolutely ruining the business of any arcade salon they can find (and nothing ever happens to them 💚💜)
Wait! I forgot the post my Angelsweek fic yesterday... @heaven-ecologist It's, uh, probably still May 24th somewhere, right? 😅
Prompts: Home/Family/Tradition
My angel of the day: Serafina
Being home was... odd.
After all these years, Serafina wasn't even sure if 'home' was still the right word. Heaven was where she had been created, where she had been supposed to spend basically all her life. But instead, she had been given an assignment on Earth. And had then refused to go back.
She'd thought it would cause more trouble, to be honest. When she had decided to stay with Adam, she had imagined threats, or worse, outright attacks. Angels coming to take her away, to separate her from Adam so she could be brought back into the ranks, be reconditioned to be a loyal soldier again.
Instead... proverbial crickets. For a few hundred years, she had been asked now and again if she wanted to return to Heaven, if someone should relieve her of her duty of watching Adam. She had always said no.
At some point, an angel had been sent who told her that in case she wanted to come back, she should simply pray to Michael, the same way she sent her regular status reports. (Those mostly consisted of 'Adam is still alive and all is well, talk to you in a hundred years'.)
After that, no one had bothered her anymore. She had not seen another angel until Jack Kline had walked into their shop to get help in killing God.
Now, God was gone, and Heaven was... different. Maybe it was because Serafina hadn't been there in several millennia, or maybe it was the influence of the nephil (and new God) Jack. In any case, it was weird.
The Heavenly Edifice was... under construction was probably the correct word, even though applying that to any part of Heaven was downright sacrilege. Heaven had always been perfect, unchanging and ever-lasting.
But now it was being changed.
The gardens were all wrong, too. Serafina had only caught glimpses so far, but the fauna seemed shrivelled compared to what she remembered. She had spotted Joshua tending to the plants, digging some up to presumably relocate them... It was all rather puzzling. Even the fauna seemed confused, some creatures watching curiously while others were digging along with Joshua, as if trying to help.
It had been a long time since Serafina had seen any of these creatures, and she realized with a start that she didn't recognize them all. She also suddenly remembered that the words flora and fauna were meaningless distinctions here in Heaven, where everything was so interconnected that it was difficult to say where one being ended and another started. Everything was alive here, including, in a sense, the Heavenly Edifice. And, through the connection with everything else, pretty much anything she saw was also sentient, to a degree.
It had been too long since she'd been home.
“Some of them almost looked like tiny dragons,” a voice suddenly said behind her, followed by a more booming, powerful voice – an angelic voice.
“They're similar in appearance to certain nudibranchs.”
“Slugs, huh,” the first voice said. It was tiny in comparison, though talking loudly – while the angelic voice had been very soft, almost a whisper.
Serafina turned around. The Viceroy of Heaven was walking towards her, stooping to talk to... a human?
“Oh. Hi,” the human said, waving when he saw her. As they drew nearer, Serafina realized that this wasn't just a soul – which would already have been more than unconventional in this part of Heaven – but an actual human body housing a soul. A full, complete human.
A living human.
Coming to a stop before her, Michael took her in with some of his eyes. Most of them stayed fixed on the human, though. “Serafina,” he addressed her, to her shock. She had not thought that the archangel Michael would remember her. “It has been a long time.”
“Wait, Serafina?” The human looked between Michael and her. “You're the one who's with the Biblical Adam?”
Serafina felt her form stiffen, some of her eyes glaring at the human. “Yes,” she confirmed tersely. Really, she wasn't ready to talk about Adam, or in what way she was with him, in front of the Viceroy of Heaven.
How did this human even know?
“My name is also Adam,” the human said, smiling. “Adam Milligan. Hi.”
Serafina just nodded – or tried to before she remembered that her True Form didn't have a neck. So instead she kind of shimmered, her grace pulsing in polite agreement. It had been so long since she'd been in her True Form, not squashed into a human body. It was a little disorienting.
“I've been showing Adam around,” Michael said lightly, as if they were humans at a cocktail party, just making conversation. And his voice was so soft – no doubt for the benefit of Adam, who might have been hurt by the full volume of his True Voice. Normally, even other angels trembled before the mighty Viceroy and his commanding tone.
Or at least they had, back in the day.
“I see,” Serafina said, just to say something.
“We just looked at the gardens,” Adam continued, beaming. “They're so cool! Well I guess they'd just be normal to you guys, but there are so many different creatures! And even the plants are creatures! We saw some of the vine unstick from a wall and migrate along with a swarm of those nudibranchs.”
“They're not actually slugs, you know,” Michael said, not chastising, just correcting. Still with most of his eyes fixed on the human. “It's just the closest equivalent from Earth I could think of.”
“Yeah, I know. But it fits.” Adam smiled at him, or at least at some of his eyes. Angels didn't exactly have a face, and if they did, it would definitely be too big for a human to take it all in at once.
If at all. That a human was looking at an angel's True Form and didn't have their eyes burnt out was extremely rare, to begin with.
Her Adam could do it, of course. Back when he had been created, there had been no vessels yet. But modern humans just weren't built for it anymore.
Except this one, apparently.
“Hey, can we go to the ocean to watch the real nudibranchs? Not right now, but when we get back to Earth.”
One of Michael's wings spread behind Adam's back. Since it was bigger than the human himself, it could almost be mistaken for a kind of shelter for him. “Of course,” Michael said, his grace swirling joyously.
Serafina stared at him. She had never before seen Michael this openly happy, showing such little restraint. Of course, she hadn't actually spent that much time with her family the last few thousand years, and had never been close to any archangels. But still.
Could it be that things had changed? Actually, truly changed? Not just in a 'there's a new management but they'll do the same as the old management and just give it different names' kind of way?
She'd been told that things were different, now, but she hadn't really believed it. Times might always be changing, but Heaven – and angels – were immutable. Or at least so she had thought.
“Michael.” Another angel had walked up behind them – another archangel, in fact. Raphael held themself as impeccably as ever, the perfect picture of a (co-)ruler of Heaven. But Serafina was shocked to see them stoop a little, in something almost like a bow, when they saw the human. “Hello, Adam.”
“Hey Raphie. How's it going?”
Raphael seemed thoughtful and, without even so much as mentioning the nickname, responded: “Quite well, I think. We haven't had a general meltdown about our democracy in a few weeks, the new Heavens are coming along, and Gabriel promised not to set anything else on fire, so all in all we're good.”
“What did he set on fire?” Michael asked, frowning.
“The throne. And the throne room.”
“Ah.” Michael nodded, as if destroying their father's throne was an understandable, or at least expected thing for Gabriel to do. Maybe nowadays, it was, Serafina thought.
“Admittedly, Gabriel had the backing of several other angels, so you could say he was just acting in his role as a council member. At least that's the excuse he uses. We decided no more fires unless it's a mutual decision by the council, though.”
Serafina's mind was swirling, trying to catch up. Council? Democracy? What was going on?
“I think we're losing Serafina,” Michael said, making some of her eyes snap up to him. While most of his eyes were still on Adam Milligan and on Raphael, some were watching Serafina intently. “There have been quite some changes. I'd say you'll get used to it, but even I still haven't quite adjusted yet.”
“And you're not even living it every day.” Raphael sighed. “One does get used to it, somewhat, but there are still moments when I wonder what in the world we're even doing.”
“You're building something new. That's always hard,” Adam said kindly.
It seemed presumptuous, a human offering an archangel kindness – as if Raphael needed Adam's absolution for their feelings. But instead of righteous fury at the mere indication that they might be equals, Raphael smiled.
It wasn't an actual smile in the human meaning of the word. Angel true forms did not have mouths. But still, the angelic equivalent of it was both fascinating and shocking to behold it on Raphael, of all people. And directed at a human!
Things truly had changed.
“It is,” Raphael said.
Only now did it occur to Serafina that they were all speaking Enochian, including Adam. Thought the language was never meant to be spoken by humans, it was definitely possible for them to do so. Usually, they had a very pronounced accent, though.
Adam didn't. He spoke fluently, flawlessly even, as if it was his native language.
“I didn't know humans are allowed in Heaven now,” Serafina spoke up, breaking the companionable atmosphere. But this matter was too pressing, too weird and confusing to ignore. “Another change?”
Michael's wings twitched, the one around Adam folding partly around his front. Like a shield.
“It's still uncommon,” Raphael told her. “But, if we want to see Michael here at all, there's hardly any other way.”
Rolling several of his eyes, Michael huffed. “You're exaggerating. I've been here without Adam before.”
Again, the equivalent of a smile – it seemed a little sly this time. “Yes, and you moped each time about getting back to him. So this is the perfect solution.”
Michael grumbled in discontent, but Adam just laughed, reaching for his wing. “Aw, you're sad when I'm not there?”
It wasn't possible for angels to blush. There was no blood to their true forms, nor, as stated, did they have an actual face that could change colour. But the way Michael shifted, he was definitely embarrassed.
“We'll talk about this later,” he muttered, his voice so small it almost sounded human.
Raphael's grace was sparkling in amusement, but soon they shifted their attention from Michael to Serafina. “Has anyone shown you the plaza yet?”
“The what?” Serafina didn't remember anything even barely resembling a plaza in Heaven. How much was being changed?
“Ah. You might like it. See, we abolished some departments – we don't have enough angels to staff them all, anyway, and this cleared up some space, so we've carved the middle of the Edifice out to create a plaza.”
They had carved- what in the world-
“We lost her again,” Michael said.
“Babe... you could stand to not point that out every five minutes,” Adam chastised him. “Let her be confused, it's only normal with everything that happened.”
Only later would Serafina realize what kind of endearment Adam had used, and suffer another spiral of absolute shock and confusion.
But right now, Raphael was reaching out gently with one of their wings. “Let me show you. It's become quite beautiful, really. Gabriel designed it and Anael helped with the decorations...”
In her daze, Serafina let Raphael guide her down the corridor.
“There was quite the disagreement about the fountain at the core of the plaza, but after we made a model, we all just felt it was right. It changes its design every now and then, depending on the day, but the basic layout is-” As Raphael prattled on, clearly excited about all of it, Serafina wondered if she had ever seen them – or any angel, for that matter – this happy. Probably not. It had been one of the reasons she had decided to stay on Earth, since humans, while often plagued by negative emotions, were also far more fun and affectionate.
If angels were changing, though... Well. Maybe Serafina could stand to visit her family more often.
May 27: Redemption/Sacrifice/Faith (x) @heaven-ecologist
a/n: this is my prized piece for angels week btw. im kissing it all on the mouth everytime i read it, hope you do the same <33
Summary: Michael allowed himself the dim light in the distance, the comfort of his faith that had been ingrained into him.
Warnings: Light Angst, Mentions of Violence and Blood, Implied Body Horror
Word Count: 761
The thing about time is he could not get it back.
He mourned the vain effort he poured into remembering what once was, when his grace was just a forethought, as he waned on the edge of consciousness, when he only knew of faith. Before his wings unfurled and allowed his brethren homage, before he learned of the fate he would never outfly, before he was more than the dust of a seething star, and even long before he had become blinded by devotion.
He had drunk the sun, allowed the molten intimacy of eternal love to scorch his wings – he had never asked for flight, so why should he worry about the charred soot that lined his feathers? God was the knife he turned inside himself, and his pain, his suffering, was all the love Michael could bear to show in return. And so even if God did not love him in a way he could understand, if he may have feared the confession of unceasing adhesion, he never felt a trough in his fertile faith, as his love would become his religion, something he would beg to be martyred for.
He knew well of what it was like to reside inside a cage, but one made of his own form.
Michael’s faith had no beginning, and he would allow it no end. He was the eternal flame, where Lucifer could be extinguished, he would not. As existence had first begun with light and darkness, it was no surprise that Fate would act so coyly to copy it again. But, at times, while sitting with his grief, his flame would come to burn him, leaving singes of doubt. He would watch as it caressed his siblings, warming them with similar feelings of uncertainty.
Gabriel had been most affected by the heat, he had no strength against it. All he knew was his mundane existence, so his locked knees stumbled when it breached upon the creation of failure, something incomprehensible to the dutiful Messenger. Michael hoped Father would understand the adoration he had for his brother, that even before Gabriel betrayed his given role of devotion, Michael had already forgiven him. He knew brothers made mistakes, and while some could not be forgiven, he did not have the strength to create another cage, to break off another of his brethrens’ wings. So when he flew from the nest, Michael turned his gaze away, as he loved too much. And that would frankly be his undoing.
He again stayed silent at Raphael’s gradual decay; he had no power to judge. All he could do was offer the value of his faith, and for her, it was of no worth. She, clouded in her pessimism, lacked belief in the promise of God’s return. Even as he allowed her to be ambitiously unfaithful, he made sure the bad apple did not ruin the bunch. It was his obligation, with the absence of God, to sustain the devotion of Heaven, what the very foundation had been built upon.
The absence of his father gave him a cruel truth; for when he became free of duty, he begged to become a prisoner again, as he found comfort in the lacerating duty of failing. Now that he was free to be himself, who was he? There was no way to know, as the concept had all but obscured itself to him. His age did not allow for comprehension, the understanding of why his conviction, his love, was not enough for forgiveness.
His God did not reward futile devotion, He only found worth in success that uplifted Him. His father’s absolution required sacrifice – so when his beloved brother’s wings shall drip scarlet, he will smile and allow his father to heal his regret, as Michael would bear any command of God, for all he will wish in return is forgiveness. He would allow himself no pride in the task, as he saw Lucifer once before bare himself to the barrel of Pride, with such a brazen stride, allowing the thought of consequences to escape his grasp. Michael was the dawn of creation, pure of sin, victorious of the divine test, and he would allow himself no such mistake.
With this, he had begun to find comfort in God’s silence. He knew his faith to be more truthful than any mouth, more gentle than any love. God left for him to enter the throbbing darkness, to be implanted in doubt’s eternal grip, so he could learn to welcome the light. God would not fail him – Michael has no doubt.
One more ficlet for @heaven-ecologist‘s Angelsweek2022, this time for the prompt ‘Torture’. It’s the last one I’ve got prepared unfortunately, but I hope you like it.
-
“Where are they?”
Uriel said nothing. He continued to wait, posture perfect and every sense strained to its limit.
“They’ve never taken this long before.”
Inias only talked to much when he was nervous. Now he was practically vibrating into different spectrums, but for once Uriel had nothing to say. There was nothing he could say to make this better.
Most buildings in Heaven were an expression of worship. Graceful columns and high ceilings and delicate arches; artwork that shone in every sense and every spectrum to glorify their Father and fill their home with beauty.
Not this one.
Uriel tried to focus on the sun on his wings, and the grass under his feet, but every time his eyes drifted back to the tower.
Finally, a door opened, and Inias froze for a split-second before springing to attention. Castiel left the building and spread his wings without a glance in their direction. Inias made a soft, almost inaudible noise and took off after him, and Uriel stepped forward as Balthazar stumbled out into the sunlight.
Like Castiel he moved under his own power, but only barely, and the barely-contained fear and anger on his face was a stark contrast to Castiel’s unnerving blankness. Uriel buried his own emotions with the ease of long practice as he fell into step beside his brother.
They certainly knew how to make it hurt. Castiel disobeyed out of love, and so they stripped it from him. Balthazar tried to defend him out of loyalty and so his punishment was to watch and remember, with just a dash of physical chastisement thrown in for his devotion to a fellow angel. At least they had been ordered to love humans.
This was one of the better days. Balthazar’s wings were whole, and while he leaned into the hand Uriel hooked under his elbow he was able to keep his footing. A weak, uneven wave of pain-tinged gratitude washed over him, and Uriel crushed the anger that wouldn’t do anyone any good and sent back unwavering support.
Neither spoke as they walked to the gardens. Balthazar couldn’t, and Uriel knew to hold his tongue.
But with every flinch and every tremor, the fiercely-contained anger grew.
They eventually reached a quiet corner, and Balthazar sank to his knees with a faint groan. Uriel knelt next to him and waited, and Balthazar finally looked up at him.
“This isn’t right.”
His voice cracked, and Uriel gripped his shoulder tight. “Quiet,” he hissed. “Did you enjoy yourself so much you want another visit?”
Balthazar flinched. Uriel forced himself to let go, and after another glance round lowered his voice. “You have to be more careful.”
“Tell that to Cassie,” Balthazar muttered.
His brothers were as bad as each other. Uriel kept a scowl off his face with an effort, but before he could say anything he felt the familiar aura of an approaching angel. Balthazar tensed, and Uriel was in front of him before he even knew what he was doing, but then recognition registered, and he relaxed.
“Joshua.”
Joshua inclined his head, and held up a tray. “I thought you might appreciate some refreshments.”
Sustenance wasn’t exactly necessary for them, but the act of breaking bread together was healing in itself. Joshua’s eyes sparkled, and Uriel smiled as Balthazar relaxed back onto the grass.
“Thank you.”
Joshua hummed and began the prayer of thanks, but though Uriel closed his eyes his thoughts were far from worship.
Balthazar might be reckless and indiscreet, but he wasn’t wrong.
This wasn’t right.
Uriel loved his Father, loved Heaven, loved his siblings, and he could not believe that he had been created to stand by and watch those he loved suffer. Somewhere, somehow, something had gone very wrong.
One day things would be different. After the Apocalypse, after they had brought about Paradise, things would change. Things would be better. There would be no more punishments that left his brothers broken.
Uriel would see that future come to pass. Whatever it took.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005)
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Characters: Uriel (Supernatural)
Additional Tags: Character Study, Angst
Series: Part 2 of Angels Week 2022
Summary:
Day 2
secrets/lies/masks & facades
A little uriel angst and character for the amazing angels week!!!
