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Even seeing it with their own eyes, Raphael could not believe it. That there was a Civil War in Heaven, that angels were taking up arms against each other… they’d seen that before. Hated it every time. Angels weren’t meant to fight angels.
At least with Lucifer, the war had been clear-cut. Lucifer was rebelling against their Father, against the plan, against the idea that humans were the favored children given wills of their own while angels were servants of the will of God. It hadn’t been easy watching their brother not so much fall as take a swan dive, followed by thousands of younger siblings, but at least it had made sense. There was a cause, and there were sides. Almost every angel in Heaven had taken one side or the other. Even those who remained officially neutral had private allegiances. The Rit Zien healed angels from both sides, or gave them a merciful dispatch – but when Lucifer took his forces, they faced a choice, and there were many of the Rit Zien who followed Lucifer. Whether that was from a true belief in the cause, or simply a misguided belief that the Rit Zien would be necessary in Lucifer’s kingdom, varied from one angel to the next.
Even when it was Raphael against Castiel, there were clear sides. Raphael wanted to finish the plan, restart the Apocalypse, rescue Michael from Hell and get things back on track; Castiel championed the humans and their free will having derailed things. Raphael’s time in the Empty had caused them to consider, to see through their rage and pain, and to realize that Castiel had been right then. When they got the chance, they were going to apologize to Castiel for that. Even then, though, the Rit Zien had remained neutral. They had healed both sides without prejudice, whatever their private beliefs were, even with their loyalty to Raphael as their founder and sponsor. Castiel, it would seem, had recognized that, as none of the Rit Zien were killed in his purge of Raphael’s followers.
This war, though. They didn’t understand this one. Angels were killing each other, and instead of being split over ideology, with two clear sides, there were so many factions that Raphael’s head was spinning trying to keep track. They couldn’t even see any sense in the fight itself – it seemed they were arguing over who should lead Heaven, with Castiel refusing to take charge. The worst of it, though – the Rit Zien were fighting, rather than healing all in need. The Rit Zien were not off-limits.
No wonder Raphael had been called back. They weren’t arrogant enough to think they deserved to be forgiven and to take charge, not after how badly they’d messed up before. On the other hand, what these angels needed was a rally point, a central figure they could agree on. Other than Raphael, Castiel was the only angel that seemed plausible as a solution. Once the immediate problem before them was solved, perhaps they should track down Castiel, offer their apology, and suggest that Heaven be ruled by a council. Each faction could nominate a representative, with Castiel on the council as a representative of the humans, and Raphael would serve as facilitator keeping council sessions on track without being involved in the decisions unless no consensus could be reached without their input. No one angel deserved to rule Heaven, but as the current chaos showed, Heaven needed someone to be in charge.
That could wait. Right now, right this second, Raphael had an emergency, literally, at their feet. They knelt and reached out, putting a hand to Ephraim’s chest. “A bullet shouldn’t make you break stride, let alone have you down like this. What’s happened?”
“Raphael?” Ephraim coughed and shook his head. “Patient has been shot through the chest. The bullet missed the heart, but punctured a lung, and the wound won’t heal because of the nature of the bullet. Someone realized that if they melted one of our blades and used the metal to make bullets, even mixed with lead, it would be fatal to angels if their aim was true.”
“Not this time.” Raphael found the bullet and very carefully forced it the rest of the way out of Ephraim’s body. Ephraim wouldn’t be able to heal himself, but Raphael could do it for him. They held Ephraim to their chest, flooding him with healing grace.
Ephraim relaxed against them, letting Raphael hold him. “Thank you. It’s so good to see you, don’t get me wrong, but how? How are you back?”
“I don’t know. I intend to look into it, but right now, I think it’s more important to figure out what’s going on. What’s happening in Heaven, Ephraim? Why are my Rit Zien killing and being killed in war?”
Ephraim pulled away from Raphael, wrapping his shredded and battered wings around himself in a poor attempt at comfort and protection. “Without you, without Father or Michael or Castiel, it’s been… you know as well as anyone how poorly most angels do when they don’t have someone at the top of the chain of command. Some angels have stepped up to try to fill the void, but old prejudices and grudges and new fractures are making it impossible to find one person to follow. Right now, Bartholomew, Rebecca, and Malachi are the ones with the largest followings, but the three are constantly fighting with each other, and splinter factions are encouraging the fighting to weaken the big groups. The Rit Zien tried to stay neutral, but Malachi started butchering anyone he found giving aid to Bartholomew or Rebecca’s factions. Some of us joined him to save themselves; others joined with Bartholomew or Rebecca to aid their fight against Malachi.”
“Who did you join?” Ephraim had always been Raphael’s favorite, their protégé, the one of the Rit Zien they loved most. If they learned that Ephraim had joined Malachi, it would crush them.
“Rebecca. Her faction avoids conflict, preferring to try to assimilate into human society and live peacefully until we can retake Heaven.”
Raphael blinked, taken aback. “Retake Heaven? From who? What happened to your wings?”
Ephraim’s wings tightened around him. “Metatron tricked Castiel and did a spell that ended up with us all locked out of Heaven. Castiel fell fully and became human. The rest of us are still angels, but our wings are so badly damaged we can’t fly. Bartholomew and Malachi’s factions are looking for him to take their vengeance; Rebecca’s is looking for him to offer him shelter and a chance to redeem himself from his mistakes.”
That explained quite a bit. Why Ephraim’s wings were so badly damaged. Why they couldn’t feel Castiel at all – Castiel was smart enough to know that there would be angels looking for him with ill intent and get himself protected. Why the angels were lashing out at each other like this. Right now, a council wouldn’t work. They needed one person to stand up and take charge. Raphael could do it, but that would likely just lead to the same mistakes as earlier. Castiel couldn’t do it, not after his mistakes. But if Raphael and Castiel both endorsed the same candidate, perhaps the angels would be accepting.
Malachi was right out. He’d weaponized the Rit Zien. Raphael could never endorse that. Bartholomew would be better, but better enough? On the other hand, Rebecca seemed too passive. Restoring order in Heaven would, likely, require some violence.
The first step, Raphael could handle themself. It seemed like they would have to. They alone would be able to get to Heaven and put Metatron back in his place. Then they could see about bringing the Rit Zien back up to Heaven to heal their wings. Healing one at a time would be tedious, but they didn’t see any other way. They would heal the first one, but they’d need to be in Heaven to do it. The healing required wouldn’t work on Earth. As the Rit Zien healed, they could begin healing others of the order. After that… Raphael would find Castiel and see if there was anything to be done.
Perhaps Raphael could be the leader needed to restore Heaven. They would step aside once truces had been settled and the council had been set up, allowing them to run Heaven while Raphael rededicated themself to healing. So many wounds ran so deeply.
Ephraim’s broken wing caressing their face brought Raphael out of his thoughts. “I know there’s work to do, Raphael. Whatever I can do to help, you have only to name it. Including being here for you when the load gets to be too much for even an archangel to handle alone.”
“Thank you. I’m going to need that over the next few months, or years, or however long it takes.” Raphael got to their feet and helped Ephraim up. “If I go to Heaven now, to confront Metatron, would you join me? Up there, I should be able to heal your wings, and I could use the moral support.”
“Of course.” Ephraim stepped into Raphael’s arms, holding them tight. “Let’s get to work.”