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I.
Once, wherever Gabriel walked upon the earth, lilies grew.
He had plucked one of them as a gift for the birth-giver, a lily among the daughters of Eve.
Unlike the solemn Queen that survived in human icons thereafter, in truth she was more like a frightened little fawn, her almond-shaped dark eyes mute and dutiful. And Gabriel did watch over her, ever vigilant against the whispers of the Fallen.
II.
Michael had no use for humans back then, for their youngest brother was hellbent on war. He had, after all, vanquished the morning star. The prince of the heavenly hosts would always be their Father's sword, just as Gabriel would always be the Word's keeper.
Yet the lily and the sword alike awaited for the end of the world.
It was promised. It was written.
III.
So Gabriel believed. Still believes, in fact, even if that belief has cost him everything.
IV.
Raphael, wings unfolded, regarded him with sleepy eyes.
“I thought you wanted this to end.”
“I do,” the vehemence in those two words surprised even Gabriel himself. “And it will,” he added for good measure.
“Then why did you ask me to heal him?”
“I did no such thing.”
“That is true,” the archangel of healers smiled faintly, almost ruefully. “You merely found it convenient to inform me that my darling little brother laid in a human city dying, his flesh embedded with a piece of angel-slaying blade which, you were quick to insist, was not your doing.... But of course, you are right, Gabriel. You owe me nothing—and more importantly, Michael owes you nothing.”
He scowled. Raphael always had a way of making everything sounding wrong. What a pain in the ass.
V.
A child cries out in the wilderness of Canaan, where the lilies no longer grow. Under the blistering sun, the lower angels are swarming like insects toward the hive, preparing for the final battle.
Gabriel stares at his bloodied hands, at the angel-slaying blade.
He doesn't ask for forgiveness, but Raphael seems to understand. This other brother of his smiles at him, wings aflutter in the sandy desert wind.
“I wish you would be gentle with Michael.”
“I can't,” the truth rushes out from him, cold and simple.
“Then I shall pray for you, my beloved brothers." Raphael's voice seems to linger long after his body has disintegrated into the air. “Out beyond ideas of right and wrong doing, there is a field. I will meet you both there.”
End