Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Come what may, come what might

Everybody falls down sometimes

Don’t lose hope, it’ll alright

You can count in me

~Count On Me ~Needtobreathe

…

There were few places that were left untouched through the raging war, from the brunt of the oldest Archangel’s undying wrath, on all those he perceived to be enemies; the barracks, training field, and the Pavilion, to name a few of those places.

Another that stood out was the Infirmary.

The home of the thirdborn Archangel, his true home nothing but a memory now, darkened and desolate, he kept himself in his Infirmary where he could tend to the ones who came to him with the care and kindness he was so well known for, that so few saw in these trying times.

It took some time for the angels to notice, those that hid within their broken homes and demolished buildings, those who snuck around, out of sight, under the nose of the enraged Commander, that when an angel went to the Infirmary, they didn’t come back out. There was fear at first, that the Healer had lost himself just as the eldest had, and they avoided stepping foot in the Infirmary for some time, dealing with wounds and injuries on their own.

And, slowly, those who needed tending to had begun to dwindle, much to the Healer’s dismay and concern, and he’d stand just outside the entrance to his Infirmary, looking around for those he knew needed help, but didn’t dare come to seek it out.

…

It was the one day in an eternity that the guards took the day off, where they were free from the horrors of their tortures for the day, an entire twenty-four hours of relief before it was back on again, the next day, back to the norm of a day in the prisoners lives.

He sat huddled in the corner of his cell, his once white tunic torn and stained amber, the gold bands that had once shined so proudly in the sun were tarnished and rusted.

Shivers rocked his body, the cold seeping into his skin, still soaked from his drowning late that night before, freezing, down to the bone.

He looks up at his cellmate, his bloodied beaten form in the far corner, huddled around himself. Arms shaking as he tried to protect himself, blood dripping from the fresh wounds, over the scabbing ones underneath. His breathing was wet, quick and weak, but as silent as a whisper, as quiet as a church mouse.

They had to get out of here.

He didn’t think his friend could take much more of this treatment. They couldn’t stay here. He had to get his friend away from this place, he had to. Escape had never been an inkling in the back of his mind, as it was never a hope to reach for, but now, this day, it was the day to try new things.

Pushing himself up, wincing and stumbling at the rotating and weight placed on his injured ankle, the scabbing gash in the center of his left foot as it cracked back open once more, leaving fresh foot prints of red on the dismal gray stone underneath him, as he stepped forward.

There was no time to waste.

“Come on, Abner, come on, we have to go.” The red mound of limbs slowly unraveled to reveal the dirty head of hair, dried and flaking blood over his shoulders, eyes red and bloodshot. “G..Gadreel?”

The former sentry nods, taking his arm in hand and drags it over his shoulders, the other bit his lip harshly, to keep from screaming at the agony of the movement. Gadreel struggled to lift him and carry his weight under the fatigue of his own injuries.

“Yes, come friend, brother, we are leaving.”

“..Leaving?”

“Yes, you must move quick, my friend, and try to stay as quiet as possible.”

Abner nods, grasping his younger brother’s shoulder with all the strength he had, grimacing slightly at the soreness the action brought with it, the cool water that dripped from his friend’s form was a nice reprieve though, it was somewhat soothing to his burning flesh.

Holding the bloodied angel steady, Gadreel peered outside the cell bars, first to the right, then to the left. He gripped the edge of the gate, fingers curling around it, and softly apologized to his older brother for what he was about to do. He digs his fingers into the gash on Abner’s shoulder, the scream he lets free was loud and agonizing, and it was loud enough that he was able to gather his strength and break the lock on the cell door, tearing it free.

For a moment, he made no movement, standing completely still, as though he were a statue.

Waiting for someone to come catch them. To see the broken loc and beat them for it. But, no one came. There was no cracking of a whip, and no yelling, from the guards or their torturer. Stepping out cautiously, he closes his eyes, waiting for a blow that never came, and then he breathed out a soft breath.

Abner was choking on a sob as he tried to remain as silent as he had been instructed to be, not wanting to ruin this one taste of possible freedom, and he bit his lip hard enough that he tasted the coppery taste of blood.

Knowing that it was now or never, to seize the moment, Gadreel turned, fingers cracking under the strength of his grasp on Abner’s tattered tunic. He ran down the hall as best as he could, disturbing the rest of the prisoners, and backed in their shouts and cheers. It empowered him, the adrenaline, and the light of sweet freedom from endless pain. He could see it. It was so close, he could practically taste it.

The Prison was loud with the cheers of it’s prisoners as the legendary duo broke through the doors, light pouring in down the darkened hall, overpowering the soft forced glow of the torches, pounding and banging against the bars of their cells at their triumph.

Gadreel and Abner disappeared from sight as the secondary guards poured in to silence the prisoners.

“Sir!”

Sampson turned at the call, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Yes, what is it?”

“Sir, they’re gone! The indefinite prisoners! They’re gone!”

He face thundered in building rage, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly, prisoners scurried to the backs of their cells in panic. “Sound the alarm! Alert the Commander and Warden! They must be found!”

…

Under the protection of the masses on the Axis, Gadreel made his way slowly farther and farther away from the prison, trudging through the freezing snow under foot, leaving a path of red footprints behind him, quickly trampled away by the passing of others. His heart racing and grace rolling dangerously, this had never happened before, Heaven’s Prison was inescapable, once you went in, you never came out.

He stumbled down the path and nearly sent them both tumbling over. Abner weakly grabbed for his attention and he gave it to him as he had desired.

“…Brother…they’ve noticed…”

Gadreel followed his gaze, to the guards making their way into the crowd, and he felt panic rise in his chest, the hand tugged weakly at his tunic, pointing in the direction of the Garden.

He shakes his head, no, that would be the first place they’d think to look for them.

His gaze travelled over the buildings carefully, but quickly, time was of the essence.

The Infirmary.

They’d all heard the rumors, once one went in, they didn’t come back out. No one knew why, and he didn’t care to think of that possibility, anything was better then what they’d already been put through.

Gadreel grunted, and Abner whined, but they both turned in the direction of the thirdborn’s domain. Hurrying to get away from the guards quickly approaching, closing in on their location, leaving nothing but drops of blood and red foot prints in their wake.

Little things that went unnoticed in the hustle of the Axis.

They both struggled to climb the stairs that lead to the Infirmary’s doors, panting for breath, the exhales they made condensing before their eyes. By the time they reached the top, Abner was practically dead on his feet, he was carrying most of his older brothers weight, and slowly ambled them closer to the great oak doors, collapsing onto the one, pushing for all that he was worth, now that the adrenaline was fading, so was his strength, and he groaned as he pushed, until the door gave way, and moved, opening under his pressure.

…

He’d been sitting at his desk going through the pile of charts he’d been given, from his oldest brother, for review pertaining to his newest recruits, that needed the Healer to sign off on his clearance to begin their training, when they fell through the doors of the Infirmary.

They were heavy doors, thick wooden monstrosities, and they were not easily opened.

Still, they had crashed through, desperate to be within the confines of his Infirmary, the one place they knew they would be untouchable. Rumors had spread through remains of the Host of the asylum that was offered within the Infirmary, even if the Healer wasn’t quite aware of the fact that he was offering it when he took you in as his patient and kept you until you were well enough under his own standards.

The Infirmary had become a sanctuary, a safe haven, for those afflicted by the war. For those under persecution, for those too young to defend themselves, for those who refused to fight against their morals and were declared insubordinate or AWOL.

He stands quickly, eyes wide in surprise, at the bodies that lay just within the entrance of his Infirmary. Beaten and bloody, covered in the evidence of the torture they had endured, they wore ragged tunics and trousers, that all prisoners were given at their intake into that dreaded feared place. Stepping out from behind his desk, he raises his hand, staying his Virtues from drawing their weapons, and crossed the threshold, making his way down the aisle towards the pair laying on the floor, to kneel before the two prisoners desperate enough to attempt an escape from Heaven’s Prison, and chose to come to his Infirmary, above all other places, for protection.

Raphael watches them silently, looking from one to the other, taking in their ragged appearance. The one dripping water on his floor, the other staining the stone with crimson blood, both tortured and abused horribly. He knew who they were, of course, they all knew who these two were. They had been given the task of guarding Eden, one at the west gate and the other at the east, and how they had allowed the serpent entrance. The Council, what remained of it, had decided their fate, a one sided vote, his oldest brother blaming them for the Morningstar’s betrayal and their Father’s disappearance, and he’d thrown them away without hearing anything on the matter, locked them up and threw away the key, leaving them to their fate.

“Gadreel, Abner, what brings you here?”

The one, painting his floor crimson, gave him a pained wounded whine in response to his inquiry. But the other crawled forward, limping even still, and reached for his hand with reddish-brown fingers. The Archangel allowed him to take hold of his hand, frowning at the shaking of the younger’s hands as he clutched his hand to his chest, whether the quaking from the cold, or from the pain he surely felt, he didn’t know.

The soaked prisoner, shivering from either shock or temperature, perhaps a mixture of both, pressed his lips to the back of the Healer’s hand, this hand he held in his grasp meant safety, it meant freedom, and he loathe to let it go. “P—Please t—ta—take us…..Pl—Please….I b—beg y—you…”

He nods, without hesitation, and curls his fingers around the younger angel’s wrists. “I will take you, Gadreel. You are safe here.” He reaches out with his free hand to caress the prisoner’s cheek. “Let me help you, now.”

Raphael looks between the two of them with concern. “Can you stand?”

Gadreel nods. “I can stand.” He turns his gaze to his brother and cellmate. “Abner cannot.”

He nods, they would deal with that matter on it’s own, and turned to gaze over his shoulder. “Oren, Zed, would you help him to a bed?”

The two Virtues nod, stepping forward to lift the limp prisoner between them, curling his sliced arms over their shoulders, their arms around his lower back, and help carry him to the nearest empty bed.

“Annael, put a covering down over that bed before they set him down, we are not soiling his blankets while we clean him up.”

The healer nods at his command, running off to fetch a thick covering to set down over the blankets, so that his blood and such wouldn’t soil them.

Raphael turns his attention to the remaining prisoner, still clutching his hand, trusting his healers to care for the other until he could tend to him himself. “Let’s get you on your feet, careful now, not too fast, lest you become dizzy.”

Gadreel clutches tightly to the Archangel’s hand, and he took that as his permission to pull him up, rising with him in sync as he pushed himself up with his other hand, stumbling forward once he managed to get to his feet, just on the verge of falling once more, had the Archangel not caught him when he did.

The Healer gives him a look. “Stand, indeed.” He turns, gesturing for him to follow with his free hand. “Let us get you into a bed as well.” Gadreel nods, stepping forward silently, leaning into the gentle touch when the Healer’s free hand curls around his shoulder, and fingers dig in firmly. “You’re absolutely soaked, ‘Reel, were you under water?”

Raphael frowns when the younger angel nods, responding in a hushed tone, soft as a whisper. “They have a well. They tie my arms over a thick wooden beam. It’s hard to breathe.”

The Archangel looks down at him in horror. “They drown you?”

He feels his heart grow heavy when the younger angel nods in affirmation, and gives his shoulder another squeeze, this time in assurance. “You will never suffer through such a thing again. You are safe here. We will take care of you now.”

The Healer gestures for the young healer to lay their own covering over the bed next to Abner and guides the younger prisoner to sit on the edge for a moment. “We will get you into warmer drier clothing and then we will tend to your wounds.”

Gadreel nods silently, not accustomed to the kindness he had been shown, not anymore, not after being through what he’d been through. Raphael smiles down at him, caressing his cheek again, rubbing his thumb over his cheek bone. “You’re safe here, ‘Reel, you and Abner both. We will get you fixed up.” He bends slightly to press his lips to his glistening forehead. “You are loved in these walls, baby brother.” And pulls back. “So dearly loved.” Gadreel gives him the barest of smiles, nodding to his kind words, and he smiles down at him fondly.

Straightening, Raphael turns to the healer who had laid the covering down, pulling her in close to his side for a moment with an arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Izeriel, will you go fetch a pair of tunics and trousers, for our patients?”

She nods silently, squeezing into his side for a brief moment, and stepped away to gather what she was sent for.

Nodding down to Gadreel, he gestures to his friend, a silent promise that he’s right next to him, Gadreel nods, and he turns to stand at the head of the bed they had set Abner down on. Stroking his fingers down the tortured sentry’s neck, he gained his attention, Abner looks up at him with terrified eyes. “You are safe here, little one. No harm shall come to you while you are under my care.” Nodding to his chest, he spoke just as gently as he had before, as to not startle the trembling youth under him, and strokes his fingers back down his throat. “I’m going to remove your tunic, alright?”

Abner nods silently, reaching up to grip at the front of the Healer’s tunic as he bent forward, he whines softly as his tunic is lifted, pulled away from deep gashes carved into his chest. The Healer was as gentle as he could manage as he lifted the tunic up, guiding the prisoners arms out of the sleeves, and lifts his back from the bed slightly to pull the ragged top over his head. He gestures for his Captain to assist with removing his trousers, as he lifts the wounded prisoner’s waist from the bed, allowing Oren to tug the sticky trousers off.

“Annael, pull the blinders around for some privacy.”

The healer aiding in their tending to the beaten prisoner nods, pulling the cloth barriers around the bed to conceal him within, leaving the only open space behind the Healer’s back.

Raphael glances at her from over his shoulder. “Would you fetch a basin of warm water and some sponges, mis chamomile in the water. Bring towel with you.”

Annael steps away to fetch what she was sent for, and the Healer rubs his fingers over the wounded angel’s forehead, taking up his attention once more. “We’re going to get you cleaned up and then we’ll treat your wounds, alright, the chamomile will help you relax and aid with easing the pain.” He gestured to the side. “You know Oren.” The Virtues Captain waves, smiling in greeting, when he turns to look at him with his wide eyes. “Him and Annael are going to give you a nice bath. It may sting a bit, most of these are still rather fresh, but it will help keep infection from setting in.”

Abner nods silently, closing his eyes when the Healer leans forward, letting out a deep breath when he feels warm lips press to his temple. “You are safe here, baby brother. You are loved in this place. We will take care of you.” He reaches up with a shaking hand to curl around the back of the Healer’s neck, licking his lips, his voice coming out as a faint whisper. “Thank you.”

Raphael smiles, kissing his temple once more, leaning over to look into his eyes. “You are most welcome, Ab.”

He nods to Oren, and Annael at her reappearance, to wash him gently and with great care.

Stepping out from behind the blinds, he returns to Gadreel’s side, having been cleaned himself, his wounds tended to by Izeriel, and helped into a warm dry tunic and a pair of clean trousers, the sentry sits on the edge of the bed quietly, staring at something on the floor between his feet, or, perhaps, lost in dark entrapping thoughts. He curls a gentle hand around the back of his head, the younger looking up at the sensation of the gentle touch and meets his eyes in silence.

“Gadreel, you’ve been so strong for such a long time, taking all of this suffering, and still managed to carry your beloved brother all this way.” He strokes a finger down the bridge of his nose. “Let it go now, baby brother, let it all flow freely.” He smiles down at him comfortingly. “There is no judgement for shedding tears.”

“It is weakness. Vulnerability that will be used against you. They don’t like it.” The younger angel shakes his head. “I can’t.”

“I like it.” Raphael shakes his head. “It is strength. To show how one truly feels. To be yourself.” He nods in assurance. “You can. You should.”

Gadreel stares up at him for a long moment, and he stares right back, watching as those brilliant blue eyes begin to shimmer with unshed tears, the pain he’d been holding back for so long finally breaking through the walls of the fortress. He pulls him forward, into his stomach, when the first sob breaks free. He rubs at the back of his head, at his shoulders, as he shakes from the force of his sobs, held back for far too long, the result of so much pain and sorrow. Slowly, the younger angel’s arms lift, his fingers curling into the back of his tunic, and he heaved a deep anguished sob, for the pain he’d endured, for the loss of his once loving big brother, for the anguish at the hands of someone who had sworn to protect him. “That’s it, Reel.” He strokes through the hair on the back the younger angel’s head, scratching lightly at the back of his neck. “That’s it.” His sobs slowly fade, after such a long span of time, and when he was sure the last of them had been cried, he curls his fingers around the sides of his head and pulls him back softly.

Curling his hands around his cheeks, rubbing away the tear tracks with gentle fingers stroking over his cheeks, he smiles down at him soothingly. “Does that feel better, Reel?” The younger angel sniffles softly, nodding his head mutely, and lifts his arm to rub the back of his hand under his nose. Raphael stays his hand gently, shaking his head, as he turns for the bedside table next to them, pressing a soft handkerchief against his nose. “Give a nice blow.” He wipes his nose clean when he can blow no more.

Guiding him back, around to lay under the warm blankets of the bed, he tucks them up under his chin.

“You rest now, alright?” He strokes his hair back from his eyes. “I am here if you need me. We all are. We’ll care for you now. You just relax and rest. You’re safe with me.”

Gadreel nods, his eyelids drooping, and curled down against his pillow. Comforted by the gentle feeling of fingers stroking through his hair, and by the warmth of presence, staying by his side as he drifted off into the grasp of sleep’s hands.

Raphael smiles down at him, stroking his fingers down the side of his face, and stands from the side of the bed.

Next to them, the dividers had been pulled back, a new pair of trousers slipped onto the other sentry’s waist, a tunic over his head, laying lightly over thick bandages wrapped around his chest. Oren sat in a chair at his bedside, holding one of his hands, stroking the fingers of his free hand over the back of Abner’s hand, watching silently as his patient slept peacefully before him.

Raphael comes to stand at his side. “How does he fair?”

His Captain looks up at his approach. “He was beaten quite badly. We put some ointment on the fresh ones and bound them. There was a break to his left leg, which is most probably why he had such trouble moving on his own, we splinted it and bound it.” Oren shakes his head, looking back down at his younger brother’s peaceful expression, blissfully taking into sleep’s comforting hands. “I’m surprised they managed to get all the way here in the condition they are in.”

“Indeed.” Raphael nods, looking between the both of them for a moment, and turns back to his Captain. “Stay with them for a while and then make your rounds between the others.” The younger healer nods at his orders. “And, Oren,” he looks back up to his Archangel. “If anyone comes asking about them, come get me immediately.”

“Yessir.”

…

He smiles as he approaches them, they’ve been here for nearly two weeks, and they had yet to have anyone come searching to see if they were with them here, listening to their laughter as he comes up to stand before their beds, it was good for them, they needed as much laughter as they could get, to drown out the other emotions.

Oren’s laying with Abner in his bed, resting back against the pillows, the young sentry between his legs, smiling down at the prisoner as he skillfully evades the hands reaching for his as he has a go at his belly, clawing the fingers of one hand in, and when the younger angel reaches for them, he pulls his hand back, attacking with his other hand in it’s place. Abner shriek’s with laughter, struggling to catch the Virtue’s hands, arching his back and squirming in place, the healer holding him in this position with his grace.

In the other bed, next to them, Gadreel squeals with laughter, his arms wrapped around his belly, struggling in Akriel’s hold, the Virtue’s arm curled around his ankles as he threads a feather between his toes, scribbles down his soles with the quill, and returns to his toes.

Raphael raises an eyebrow. “Where’d you get a feather?”

His mental specialist looks up at him and smiles. “Lamechial went through a molt a couple of weeks ago, I took one, I’m not sure why or what I intended to do with it, but I found the perfect use for it now.”

“I see,” he nods, looking between the two prisoners, stuck in his Virtues merciless clutches, and smiles at their predicament once more. “I don’t very much mind how long you two keep this up, in my opinion, they need all the laughter they can get, but at least give them a moment to catch their breath in the near future.”

“Sure, Raph.”

“Obviously, Raph.”

…

Three weeks into their stay with them, the guards come searching, bringing the hounds with them, to sniff out the trail of their missing prisoners. The hounds bark and jump forward, catching the scents of the ones they were sent after, pulling the guards with them. Gadreel and Abner cower at the sight of them, at the growling and barking hounds, the youngest prisoner cowers so much so that he falls over the edge of his bed, he’s the reason they’re here, it’s going to be so much worse for him, so much worse.

Healers turn to look at the sound of the barking, Oren turns from the back of the room, running back to his Archangel’s office, they knew it was a possibility, it was only a matter of time before they came searching for them here, and they’d been ready for it when the possibility was made true upon.

Gadreel pushes himself back against the edge of his older brother’s bed, Abner curls his fingers in the back collar of his tunic and tugs, nearly choking him in the process.

They’re staring at the guards approaching, the dark glare in their eyes, the barking snapping hounds tugging against their leashes.

And, then the Archangel’s there, Raphael comes to stand between them, his arms spread slightly, and they stare at his back, as he blocks their approach.

The Healer meets their glares with one of his own, a tad bit more terrifying then theirs is, and they shy back slightly at the sight of it. “You wouldn’t dare.”

The guards tense at the Archangel’s full attention, exchanging a glance, tugging their hounds back. “We’re here to collect the escapees on Michael’s orders.”

“Well,” Raphael snarls at them. “You can tell Michael that they are mine, and if he wants them, he can come fight me for them.”

“Sir—”

“Get out of my Infirmary.” The Archangel jerks his head towards the doors. “Michael may be in control out there, but in here”, he gestures around with his hands. “I’m the one in control. Get out of my Infirmary or I will strike you down.”

“Sir, we don’t want to fight, we just—”

“Then, you’d best be going.”

The Healer takes a threatening step forward, and the guards step back, retreating under the reality of his threat, and nod, turning tail to make their leave.

Raphael watches them until they disappear out the doors, nodding to Constantine and Ephraim to close them, and turns to his two young patients. “Come, come, let’s get you back in bed.” He crosses around the end of the bed quickly, holding his hands out to the younger sentry, and once they’re standing, he pulls him into an embrace when he feels him shaking in terror. “It’s alright, little one, you’re alright. I told you that you were safe here, and I don’t say things I don’t mean, I won’t let anyone take you.” He pulls him back gently, caressing his cheek, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. “I’ll have Oren come stay with you for now, it’s alright, you’re alright, let’s get you back in bed.”

Gadreel nods, moving around when he’s guided around, and tucked back into his bed, resting back against the pillows, and thumb rubs over his cheek tenderly. “You just relax, I won’t let anything bad happen to you, you’ll come to no more harm with me here.” The younger sentry nods mutely, smiling up at him slightly, and he returns the smile in kind, stroking a finger down his nose. “You get some rest.”

Once he’s sure the younger of the two is comfortable and soothed, he turns to the other, Abner hisses, rubbing at his chest lightly, and he nods. “You’re going to be a bit tender for a while, I’m afraid, other then this, there will be no strenuous movements.” He guides him back against his own pillows, pulling the blankets up under his chin, and brushes his curls back. “You get some rest too.”

Abner smiles up at him, casting a quick glance to his younger brother, already sound asleep, and turns back to the Archangel. “Thank you.”

“I meant what I said, you are mine, and I don’t let harm come to those who are mine.” Raphael pats his cheek lightly. “But, you’re most welcome.” He strokes a finger down his nose too. “Get some rest, I’ll send Oren over to stay with you for now.”

Michael never comes to confront him about the prisoners staying here with him, though he knows the message he sent was received, but one thing is made clear, the lines have been drawn, and they are not on the same side.

Chapter Text

A knocking at his Infirmary door has him standing from his desk, looking in on the two sleeping prisoners as he passes them, he crosses the threshold to answer the call as his door. He reaches for the blade he keeps hidden under his smock, and pulls the thick wooden door open, surprise blindsides him for a moment.

“Captain.”

There stands the Captain of the Powers, and behind him, stands his men.

“Healer.”

Nisroc bows his head in respect, his brothers following suit, greeting him softly, hope shining in his bright blue eyes.

Raphael reaches under his smock to place his blade back in it’s sheath. “What can I do for you, Nisroc?”

The oldest Power shuffles slightly, completely unlike him, with his usually self assured attitude he normally carried about him, and gestures to his men behind him. “We came to seek you out.” The Healer tilts his head slightly in confusion. “We come in hopes that you will take us in.”

He narrows his eyes slightly, eyeing them all carefully, unsure on whether or not this was an elaborate trick being played by his brother, to using his trusting nature against him, that they were here in the attempt to retrieve Gadreel and Abner, excuse him if he’s cautious, one tends to be when they’re living through a time of war. “Why?”

It pained him to talk about it, but the Healer had to be sure, his priority was ensuring the safety of his patients.

Nisroc rubs his forehead lightly and closes his eyes, heaving a distressed and sorrowful sigh. “I love my Commander. I love him with all my heart.” When he opens his eyes, he looks as tired as one could possibly be, tired and broken. Mending broken people is what he specializes at. “But I cannt follow his orders any longer, they go against my heart, and I cannot do it.”

“What ails you?” Raphael looks between them all. “I cannot take you into my care if you have no ailments. I am a Healer. Not a Guardian.”

The Powers’ Captain nods, turning to gesture at his men, pointing two out in particular. “Titus’s old shoulder wound is acting up, the tension will not leave him, he can barely move his arm without agonizing pain.” And to the other. “Puriel has had a reoccurring migraine for nearly a month.” Nisroc turns to look at him, his eyes begging where words could not, a desperate man, who didn’t know what else they could think to do. “We swear allegiance to you, sir, please take us in, please.”

“They have ailments.” He looks pointedly to the to behind him, and the others inhale, as though the know he’s going to deny the rest of them entrance, and he spares them a quick look. “And, the rest of you have broken hearts.” The Healer nods firmly. “I can heal you all.”

Raphael steps aside, opening the door wider, nodding to them in their request for entrance. “Come in.” He nods as they each thank him for his mercy, ducking under his arm as they pass him, and waited silently for instructions as he closes the great wooden door behind them. He strides through them, they part for him in haste, and snatch both Puriel and Titus up by the wrist.

“Come.” They follow after him dutifully, to a row of empty beds, and two waiting healers. There was unease from the two of them at their appearance, and unease was a feeling that no blame could be placed for, it was expected from others after the things they had been forced to do.

“Aban, mix together a mug of warm water and catnip.” He turns to look at Puriel closely and the medic stares at his old guardian for a moment before averting his eyes. “And a small dash of sugar cane.” He pats the medic’s cheek lightly and Puriel smiles up at him slightly. “Because I am so fond of you, little Puri.” He turns to survey Nisroc for a moment, at his tense posture, constricted muscles. “Prepare some passion flower tea.” And turns to survey the others for a brief moment. “Along with some chamomile tea.” He looks over the young ones standing between them all. “A mug of warm milk for the little ones.” He ends on Titus. “And a small dish of pineapple.” The Power looks confused, and he squeezes his hand, sparing him another glance. “Bromelain. It resides in pineapple. It will help with the soreness in your shoulder.” He smiles down at him fondly. “And it serves as a nice treat.”

The healer nods, stepping away to fetch what he had been sent for, nodding to them as he passed through to do as he was instructed. He stops before the other healer, the Powers halting behind him silently, and she smiles up at them in greeting.

Raphael smiles down at her kindly. “Brakiel, could you fetch us a few pairs of clean tunics and trousers?”

She bows her head slightly, stepping between Puriel and Abraxos, to go retrieve what she was sent to gather.

He nods, sitting Titus down on the bed on the right and Puriel down on the bed on the left, and turns to face the rest. “Pick a bed, Raha, you and Sablo can push your beds together, I know you like sleeping together.” The Healer points to the two basins of water on the bedside tables, and to some folded hand towels. “There are some basins of warm water. Clean yourselves up a bit, you’ll truly bath tomorrow morning in the washroom, but it’s late, and all of you appear as though you could do with a good nights rest. Brakiel will return shortly with new clothes, she will take your old ones with her.” He looks between them all, pausing to give each of them a particular look, and they shuffle slightly under it. “You will change and get into bed, drink the entirety of your mugs, and then get a good rest. You are no longer soldiers, not within these walls, you are patients. You will rest and recover. We will take care of you now.”

Raphael looks down at the medic. “You will drink it all, little Puri, I know you well. Not a single drop left.” And spared Titus the same glance. “The same for you, Tus. I want ever piece of pineapple eaten.” He turns to Hasmal, towards the back of the group of men, hiding behind Abraxos’ left shoulder. “I will get you a thick wool blanket, Maly, I can see you shivering despite your hiding behind Abraxos.”

He nods in assurance, stepping forward to leave them be for the moment, and stopped at Nisroc’s side, at the very back of the group, his first priority was ensuring his men and brothers got the care they needed first, then it was his turn. The Healer rubs at his shoulders lightly, massaging at a knot that had formed, and smiles when the mighty Captain sighs in comfort and leans closer. “Relax, little nighthawk, you are safe here with me.”

The oldest Power sighs softly once more. “You will send us back?”

Raphael hums softly, shaking his head slightly, massaging at another knot he’d found. “Broken hearts can take extensive time to heal.” He spares him a smile when he turns to look at him over his shoulder. “No. I think I’ll keep you all until there’s not a single scar left. Relax, little one, take a deep breath and relax. You are mine now. You are untouchable.” He stills his fingers and he smiles at the Power’s soft tone of protest. “No warrior returns to the field until I give them clearance. I don’t see myself giving it for you all for quite some time to come. You are safe here. Let yourself relax, rest, let us care for you.”

The Healer smiles in amusement when the Power hums, rolling his shoulders lightly, the silent request to rub them again, and digs his thumbs back in again, the Power gives a soft sigh of comfort. “I have to check in on a few others. But, I will be back, and we will rid you of all these tension knots that have formed.”

He smiles, looking down for a moment as he face heats up slightly, nodding his head lightly. “Thank you, sir.”

“Always, little one.” He pinches at his highest rib and the Power shrieks softly, jolting under his touch, reaching around to cover that side of his ribs. “Don’t call me ‘sir’, you may call me anything you like, but it will not be ‘sir’.”

“Yes, big brother.” Nisroc gives him a small smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” The Healer smiles at him, patting his cheek lightly, and waves over to the beds. “Go, wash up, Brakiel will be back in a few moments, get yourself changed and into bed, Aban will be around with your mug of tea in a short while. I will return shortly and we will work those knots free.”

Nisroc nods, and true to his word, the Healer walks off to tend to the other patients under his care. Helping one sit up to take a drink, curling another blanket over the shivering form of another, rebandaged some wounds, did all the things a healer did when it came to tending to their patients.

Brakiel returns a moment later, arms full of tunics and trousers, and stopped before each of them to take a set, smiling all the while. They changed slowly, shedding from their battle worn suits to their new clothes, and washed up in the basins as she took their soiled cloths and disappeared for a moment, and they tried to be as quite as they could be, as to not disturb the patients around them.

After her, Aban returns with a large tray of mugs, passing one to each of them and to the youth’s in their midst, and he passes a small plate of pineapple to Titus.

Brakiel reappears, rubbing at Titus’s shoulder as he slowly eats through his pineapple slices, easing the tension free gently. She giggles softly when the mighty Power groans softly in comfort as the tension slowly dissolves. Helping him lay back when he’s finished his plate, placing an extra pillow under his shoulders, and he smiles up at her, thanking her softly. Brakiel returns his smile in kind and nods silently. “If you need me, I’ll be over there.” She points to a small desk just a couple beds away from them, and he nods softly.

Just as he said he would, Raphael returns some time later, watching Aban collect the empty mugs around them, checking in one his two grown charges, fast asleep, Titus and Puriel never stood a chance against his concoctions, he tucks the thick blanket around the small firebender, curled up in the medic’s arms, sleeping just as peacefully as his older brother. Sablo and Rahatiel are curled into each other, sound asleep, holding onto one another even in slumber. They pushed three beds together, Hamaliel and Chayyliel sleeping peacefully at Abraxos’ sides, curled around his arms, he pulls the blankets up under their chins, sitting on the edge of the bed, next to Hamaliel.

Abraxos was close to dropping off with them, his eyes slowly closing, and he reaches out, brushing his fingers through his short blonde hair soothingly. “Go to sleep, Abe, you and your boys are safe here. Close your eyes and rest.” He stays with him until his eyes do close, brushing his fingers through his hair, and his breathing evened out, and reaches down to pull the blankets up over him.

Then, he returns to the Captain’s side. Nisroc is resting on his stomach, his arms curled under his head, over the pillow, Galizur sleeping peacefully against his side, and he groans softly when the Healer sits next to him and digs the heels of his palms into the rough patch just under his shoulders. “We’ll start here.”

…

The young ones find it extremely amusing, watching their elders squirm around in their beds, shrieking and laughing, as the Healer assaults them with his grace, smiling lightly as he works through the charts at the desk just behind them, it’s a sight to see, the mighty Powers reduced to a fledgling-like state.

Hasmal squeals softly, kicking his feet, feeling the tingly grace weave between his toes, clamping his arms down tightly as it circles over his armpits. Next to him, Puriel squeals softly in similar fashion, his arms wrapped tightly around his belly, arching his back intermittently, as twenty invisible fingers vibrate and claw into his belly, if anyone knows just how bad his belly is, it’s his old guardian.

In the beds next to them, Rahatiel and Sablo shriek with laughter, both squirming desperately, as the tingly grace swirls over their thighs and bellies, really, it’s a tad overkill, you only need to get one to get the other, getting both at the same time was somewhat cruel, but then, the Healer can be a tad cruel when he’s in the right kind of mood.

On the bed at their side, Titus kicks, as tingly grace kneads into his thighs and swirls over his neck, shrieking brightly, his head thrown back against the pillow, being quickly reminded as to just how cruel his old guardian was.

In the bed next to him, Abraxos has his arms wrapped tightly around himself, curled up on his side, cackling brightly as the Healer’s tingly grace assaults his belly and armpits mercilessly.

And, in the bed at his side, the final bed, Nisroc shrieks and cackles, as the tingly grace seeps over his ribs, his arms curled around himself as tightly as he can manage, his head pressed back against the pillow under him.

Hamaliel giggles at his guardian’s predicament, leaning forward against the Healer’s back, curling his arms over his shoulders. “Raph, you’re mean.” Raphael chuckles softly and reaches up to pat his hands. “You think this is mean, just wait until it’s you alls turn, I’ll show you how mean I can be.”

…

It was only four days into their stay that Michael storms into the Infirmary, rage shining in his eyes, stalking forward for his Powers. They push their young ones behind them, down, between the beds, standing before them defensively, they’ll take on their Commander if it meant protecting their young ones. They watch him in alarm as he slowly approaches, promising harsh consequences, demanding they return to completing their orders, and they prepared themselves for a fight, prepared themselves to defend not only themselves, but their young ones.

But the Healer was quick in appearing before them, his bow in hand, arm pulled back, string taught, arrow notched, his electric grace swirling around it dangerously, cutting off his stride to his AWOL Powers.

They had sworn allegiance to him, they were his patients, and Raphael protected what was his.

He keeps the arrow trained on him, his brother may be foolish enough to come unarmed, but he was not. He’d first fight him before he allowed him to take any patient under his care from him, he’d strike him down first, he’d have to pry them away from his cold dead hands.

And, he was not easy to kill.

“Brother, what brings you here?”

Michael glares at him, but wisely keeps his distance, his skill is with a sword, Raphael’s is with his bow, he’s never missed his target, and he never will. “I am here for my Powers. They are mine.”

The younger Archangel shakes his head. “They are mine. They swore allegiance to me. They will go nowhere.”

“Who are you to tell me who my Powers follow.”

Raphael glares at him in rage. “They are my Powers. They are under my protection. They are my patients. They stay.”

The older Archangel fumes, looking at him incredulously, as though he’d simply allowed him to keep the prisoners but taking in his Powers was crossing the line. “Your patients! They aren’t wounded!”

“Who are you, to tell me, the Healer, what one’s ailment might be?” Raphael snarls at him lowly, electricity curling around his form as his temper slowly starts to unravel. “If I say that they are my patients, then they are wounded, and fall under my domain.” He steps forward threateningly, forcing the unarmed Archangel back a step. Michael may be older, but not even he would tempt the thirdborn’s temper, Raphael was a danger to anyone when his temper was triggered. Even him. “And you wouldn’t dare take one of my patients from me.”

Michael was fuming, enraged even, looking over the Healer’s shoulder to his Powers, their young ones hidden from view, but he knew they were there, there would be hell to pay when they were released, and turns his attention back to the younger Archangel. “You’re overstepping, Raphael.”

“I am keeping what’s mine safe.” He bites back. “It’s you who is overstepping.”

“You are making a very large mistake, Raphael, one that you will live to regret.”

“Make no mistakes, Michael, if you come after what’s mine, it will be you who makes the mistake you’ll live to regret.” He jerks his head around. “Get out of my Infirmary before I strike you down.”

Michael snarls lowly, like an animal before they attack, but he’s wise, and turns to make his leave, coming in empty handed, and leaving empty handed. The Healer follows his movements, his arrow trained on his back, until he disappears out the doors, and jerks his head to his two Virtues nearest them, ordering them to close the doors, lock them, and they nod, rushing forward to do as they were ordered.

Lowering his bow, reigning his temper back in, the charge building around him fades, and he turns to them after a long moment, waiting until he hears the large locks thunk into place. He eyes them all, the tension that’s built up within them, their young ones peeking out from just over the edge of the beds, and he sighs, stepping forward, curling his bow over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you all back in bed, it’s alright, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The young ones slowly stand, curling around their respective Power, and he guides them all forward, back into their beds, tucking them each in one by one. “I’m going to get you all warm mugs of chamomile tea and milk, it’ll help you relax and soothe the tension, and then you will rest.” Raphael smiles at them all. “It’s alright, I’ll protect you, you all just relax and rest, everything will be alright.”

They nod, the Powers thanking him softly for his protection, and he waves their thank-yous away. “You are mine, you swore allegiance to me, and I protect what’s mine.” The Archangel smiles though, nodding lightly, and winks at them. “But, you’re most welcome.”

…

After the confrontation between the two Archangels, witnessing his Powers abandoning him in such a way, and knowing what his brother was doing, Michael posts guards at the entrance of the Infirmary. They were to capture anyone who tried to get themselves within the walls of the thirdborn’s domain, under the Healer’s care, and take them straight to the Prison.

Raphael was not wrong, his patients were his to do with what he pleased, once they were under his care, in his domain, they were untouchable, no one else had any say over them or what they were to do.

And, he knew that.

So, if his brother wanted to play these games, then he would play his own hand, they would see who would win this battle between them.

Raphael knew, of course, about the guards posted outside of his Infirmary, and though it pained him to know that others would be punished for coming to seek aid, he couldn’t focus all too much attention on it, for he still has patients he must care for already within the Infirmary.

There was more then one entrance inside.

Michael only knew of one.

Chapter Text

The guards posted at the door don’t so much as bat an eye as the two Wardens make their entrance, they don’t even bat an eye at the fact the smaller Co-Warden is carrying the larger Head Warden over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, it’s truly a sight to see, the younger Warden is so much smaller then the older, it’s a wonder how he’d carried him this far without dropping him.

Raphael rushes up to them, taking the older Warden from the younger, when his grip starts slipping. “Theo, what brings you two here, what happened to Thaddeus?”

Theo looks away and rubs at his arm. “I happened.”

He doesn’t have the time to dig through that precarious statement, not when he feels the warm bleeding wound on the back of Thaddeus’s head, and jerks his head around for the younger Warden to follow after, as he turns, carrying the older angel to a free bed. “What happened to his head?”

Theo looks down to his boots. “A better question is, what hasn’t happened to his head?”

The Healer turns to look at him, he’s eluding to something, something he doesn’t know, and if it involves the reason he brought Thaddeus to him, then he needs to know what this ‘something’ is.

“Speak clearly, Theo, you’re talking in riddles.”

He rubs at the back of his head. “I betrayed him. Naomi….Naomi brainwashed him and I took him to her…It’s all my fault.”

The Archangel stares at him for a moment, clearly, that was not what he was expecting from him, that was not what he had expected that ‘something’ to be. “We’ll get more into that later, why’s his head bleeding?”

“I hit him with one of the logs for the fire to knock him out.” Theo finally looks up at him, and never, in all his years of working his craft, has he seen someone look so utterly broken. “Can you…Can you fix him?”

Raphael stares at him for a moment longer, before looking down at the unconscious Warden laying in the bed next to him, and nods lightly. “Yes, I can fix him.” He gives him a quick once over. “Are you alright?” He frowns in the way the younger Warden looks away again, rubbing at his arm once more, and refuses to answer his question nor meet his eyes again.

Nodding lightly, he turns to the healer there to aid them, smiling down her kindly. “Umabel, would you fetch Akriel for me, and a pair of clean clothes?”

The young healer nods, returning his smile, and walks off to retrieve what she was sent for.

Turning back to the younger Warden, he points to the bed next to him, Theo doesn’t look up, but he does follow his gesture. “Take that bed there, Akriel will examine you, seeing as how you refuse to give me any answer to my previous question.” He nods, toeing his boots off, climbing up to rest on the bed he was told to, resting his hands in his lap silently, and the Healer watches him for a moment, before turning to the task at hand.

He knew what Naomi was doing, and he knows at who’s request she was doing it, she had been his student, she was now a disgrace, he would see her pay for her crimes.

Pulling the chair around to the head of the bed, he sits, he’d mend what she’d broken before he tended to the laceration on the back of the Warden’s head.

“Hey, Raph,” Akriel calls as he approaches, Umabel at his side, carrying new tunics and trousers for both Wardens, and he jerks his head in the other’s direction, Theo stares down at his hands mutely, not acknowledging their presence. “Examine him, he’s being cryptic.”

His Virtue nods mutely, stepping around to the other bed to pull that chair around to the head of Theo’s bed, and the Archangel turns back to the task at hand, placing his hands on either side of Thaddeus’s head, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and dives in, taking care of the mind required complete attention and all of ones focus.

Akriel smiles down at the younger Warden, easing him back gently, brushing his curls back when he’s resting against his pillow. “You should lay down; you might get a bit woozy.” He places his hands on either side of the younger angel’s head. “Now, just relax, everything’s going to be okay.”

…

The two of them watch their newest patients sleep silently, Thaddeus resting on his back, the blankets pulled up over his chest, his arms resting down his sides, his head wrapped in bandages from the wound left behind by the blow with the log, and Theo, turned away from him, as though he didn’t think he deserved to look at him, curled up on his side.

“Akriel,” Raphael turns to look to his mental specialist. “What did you find?”

Akriel sighs sadly, rubbing at his beard lightly, and shakes his head. “Raph, I don’t know, I’ve been doing this for a long time, and never, in all these years, have I seen someone who was so broken.”

He frowns, turning around to look at the younger Warden. “Did Naomi tamper with him too?”

“No, she did not, he’s broken, but not at her hands. He was hurt and vulnerable, she told him she could help him, she manipulated him, both him and Thaddeus have been betrayed, by the same person, but in different ways.”

…

Theo stares down at his hands, resting in his lap, avoiding the eyes of the older Warden as he stared at him. He knew, of course, that Raphael would tell Thaddeus about what had happened, he’d known it would happen, he did, he just never expected Thaddeus to confront him about it, though, perhaps he should have.

Thaddeus had been so nice to him, always complimenting him, giving him whatever he asked for, and he’d used his kind nature against him, he’d betrayed him.

All of the pain in that place was all his fault.

“Theo,” the Warden sighs softly. “I just want to know why, did I do something wrong, did I wrong you in some way?”

He shakes his head, biting his lip lightly, and reaches up to rub at his cheek. “She said she could make them stop.”

Thaddeus frowns lightly. “Make who stop?”

“Them, everyone, she said she could make them leave me alone, that she could make them stop.”

“Stop what, Theo, stop what?”

He finally looks up at him, and Thaddeus stares at him, his eyes look so hollow, he looks so devastated, so tired, so broken. “Stop hurting me, I just wanted them to stop hurting me, and she said she knew how, that I just had to bring you to her, and they’d all stop hurting me, so I did, because she promised she could make them stop.”

“Who was hurting you, Theo, who?”

Theo rubs at his arm lightly. “The prisoners. They were upset that they were there and didn’t dare take it out on you, I tried being nice, I tried being like you, because everyone liked you, but…..but nothing worked, they kept hurting me, and I just wanted it to stop.”

The older Warden blinks, looking down for a moment, before returning his gaze to the younger Warden. “My prisoners were abusing you?”

He sniffles softly, nodding lightly, and rubs at his arm again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to betray you, she said she could make them stop, I just wanted them to stop.”

The elder sighs softly. “Theo, why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I thought you already knew.”

He blinks in surprise. “You thought I knew and was condoning it?”

Theo nods slightly.

Thaddeus is upset about what he’d done to him, as indirectly as it had been, but he understood why he did it, if he were being abused and someone told him they could make it stop, he’d do the same exact thing, it was shameful, but true. “Theo, if I had known, I would have never allowed it to continue, never.”

The younger angel looks up at him with sad, sad eyes. “Really?”

He nods firmly. “Really, I wouldn’t have allowed that kind of treatment.”

His young Warden’s eyes shimmer, he knows it’s tears making them shimmer, he’s seen enough eyes shimmering with tears to know what it looks like when he sees it. “You mean it?”

“I do.” The Warden nods firmly. “I wouldn’t have allowed them to treat you like that if I had known.”

A tear trails down the younger angel’s cheek. “I’m so sorry, Thaddy, I’m so, so sorry.”

Thaddeus sighs softly, opening his arms, he’s never been one to hold grudges, especially when something was done for an honest reason, and there’s no more of an honest reason to want someone to stop abusing you. “Come here, little brother.”

Theo stares at him, as more tears slowly trail down his cheeks, as though he doesn’t think he deserves his comfort, so he leans forward, curls his fingers around the collar of his tunic, and tugs him forward, until he’s pressed against his chest and he can wrap his arms around him. He cradles the back of his head with his right hand. “Let it out, little brother, let it out.”

The younger angel holds it in for as long as he can, until the tears spill over and a sob tears from his chest, he buries his face into the older Warden’s chest, slowly curls his arms around him, and just breaks.

Raphael comes to check on them some time later, after the sobs have tapered off into sniffles and wheezing, after Theo cries himself to sleep, resting lightly on the Warden’s chest, the elder’s arms wrapped around him soothingly and protectively. He sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out to brush his fingers through the young Co-Warden’s curls, and shakes his head sadly. “I’m sorry.”

Thaddeus looks up at him, the finger stroking over his little brother’s nose falling still and tilts his head in confusion. “About what?”

The Archangel sighs. “I taught Naomi what she knows, if I had never have done so, none of this would have happened.”

He nudges the older angel with his foot. “Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself, Raph, there was no way for you to know that she’d use your teachings in such a way.”

The Healer smiles at him. “You truly are one of the best of us, Thaddeus, you truly are.”

“Says the one taking in as many ‘patients’ as he can, sure, I’m one of the best.”

“Mind your tone, little frog, you of all people know what the consequences are for sarcasm.”

…

“Raph, I’m bored, my head is fine, can I please get up?” Thaddeus whines miserably, glaring at his little brother when he hears Theo giggle softly across from him on his bed, he’s been here for nearly three days, confined to this bed. “I need entertainment!”

Raphael chuckles softly, turning, and reaching out just as Akriel walks passed, snagging the feather that rests behind his ear, and holds it out to the older Warden. “Here’s a feather, go nuts.”

He leaves him to it, after checking his vitals, and Thaddeus hums to himself, twirling the feather between his fingers, he misses his feather, oh, the fun he used to have with that feather. Smiling slightly, he leans forward, curling his fingers in the back of his little brother’s tunic, if anyone needed some laughter, it was him, and Theo yelps as he tumbles backwards, resting on his older brothers lap.

“T—Thaddy, what are you doing?”

“Oh, nothing.” The Warden holds him there with his grace and leans forward, curling the fingers of his free hand around the bottom hem of the younger angel’s tunic, pulling it up slowly. “Just garnering myself some entertainment.” Theo looks down in alarm as his tunic is pulled up to his chest, his belly bared, prone in front of one of Heaven’s most torturous tickle monsters. “Is that belly button still as sensitive as I remember it being?”

“N—Now, Thaddy, let’s think about this.”

“Oh, I’ve done quite a bit of thinking about this.” He leans forward, dipping the tip of the feather in his young Co-Wardens belly button, and looks down at him with a smile. “Think of this as my revenge for betraying me.”

Theo squeals softly when he begins twirling the feather in his belly button between his thumb and forefinger, kicking out wildly, trying to pull his arms around, but finds them to be stuck, he arches his back, pressing his chin to his chest, and when he sucks in his belly, the feather moves, and fingers claw in, he squeals louder and shakes his head. “Don’t you suck that belly in, you take this belly button torture, this is your consequence for betraying me.” He shakes his head, trying to hold his breath to keep his belly where it is, and his older brother chuckles from above him. “If you don’t let that belly go, I’m going to hold you down, climb around you, and blow as many berries as I want into that belly button.” He squeals at the thought of it, button berries are the worst, those are the worst kind of berries, the absolute worst. “You have to the count of three.” He shakes his head again. “One.” His belly starts to shake as his giggles become just a tad more overpowering. “Two.” Theo giggles harder. “Three.”

When he feels the Warden move, he shrieks, shaking his head. “No! No, Thaddy! No! Not those! Not button berries! Those are the worst! Not those! No! Please!” He giggles and smiles when his older brother lay’s himself down over his legs, positioning himself above his belly, smiling down at his belly button. “Thaddy, please! Please! Not button berries! Not those! I’m sorry! I’m really sorry! Please, no! No!”

“Every action has a consequence, Theo, every single one.” He blows lightly over his little brother’s belly button and smiles when he shrieks softly. “Button berries are your consequence.”

Oren and his Archangel look over at the sound of the bright squeal, his Archangel smiles, and he shakes his head. “I’m happy to see he didn’t hold a grudge; I most certainly would have.”

“Oren, after what Ak told me he’d seen, I’d have done the same thing if someone told me they could make the abuse stop.” Raphael smiles at them, Thaddeus is really the perfect person to care for the broken Co-Warden, more so then any of them could be. “Out of the two of them, Theo is the one that has me concerned the most.”

His Captain looks up at him. “Why him?”

He turns to look down at him. “Because, it’s the broken and abused ones that pose the biggest threat, unintentionally of course, but even so, they pose the biggest threat to themselves and others.”

Oren tilts his head. “How so?”

Raphael looks over to them at the sound of another bright squeal. “Because, when one is used to be hurt, they’re more likely to lash out at anyone who comes near, in fear that they’ll be there to hurt them again. Naomi brainwashed the both of them, just in two different ways, she rewrote Thaddeus, and convinced Theo that no one was stopping the prisoners abuse because Thaddeus was condoning it. They’re both victims of her brand of torture.” He rubs at his chin thoughtfully. “Thaddeus and Theo are to remain together, push their beds together, Theo needs as much physical affection as he can get, and Thaddeus will be the one to give it to him freely, they need to be close to one another. Theo doesn’t sleep at night, not very much, he lays on his side and stares at Thaddeus, I assume it’s because of the guilt he feels, I have no doubts he’ll sleep properly through the night if he’s sleeping with Thaddeus, if he’s able to touch him, and I know for a fact that Thaddeus will pull him in close and hold him, and that’s exactly what he needs. Physical affection.”

…

“Here we are,” the Healer passes them both their mugs of chamomile tea, Theo takes his mutely, tucked into the Warden’s side, under his arm, and blows on it before taking a sip, Thaddeus smiles up at him as he takes his. “Nice warm mugs of chamomile tea, finish the whole mug, it’ll help you both get a good nights rest.” The Archangel leans over, pressing a kiss to the side of the Co-Warden’s head, he smiles, ducking slightly, not used to receiving kind physical attention. “I love you, Theo.”

He straightens and smiles when he hears him whisper back. “I love you too, Raph.”

He spares them one last smile and turns, making his leave, meeting his Captain at the end of the aisle, it was his move in this game they were playing, if Michael would take what was his, then he would do the same. “Are the beds made up, Oren?”

“Blankets pulled down and pillows fluffed.”

Raphael nods, watching the two guards standing sentry outside the doors to his Infirmary, unaware that they were being watched from behind. “Good, ready?”

“Ready when you are.”

They nod in unison, rushing forward on the unsuspecting guards, both of them yelp when they curl the fingers of one hand in the back of their tunic’s and tug them down, curling their hands around their foreheads, forcing them to sleep with their grace, the two guards fall limp in their arms, and they drag them back inside, Constantine and Akriel closing the doors behind them.

Grunting lightly, he bends, sweep the guard in his hold up off his feet, and Oren tugs the other up over his shoulder. Carrying the two guards over to the beds that had been made for them, they set them down carefully, leaning over to tug their boots off, and pull the blankets up over them.

The Virtue looks to his Archangel curiously. “What’s their diagnosis?” He turns back to the two guards. “You know Michael will accuse you of taking them as prisoners.”

“Sleep deprivation and mental exhaustion.”

Raphael nods, smiling slightly at the way the two guards curl up on their sides, sighing softly in content in their beds. “Head on to bed, Oren, they’ll sleep through the night.”

“Right,” he nods, squeezing his Archangel’s arm lightly. “Goodnight Raph.”

“Goodnight, Ori.”

Chapter Text

It’s the scuffle outside the doors that alerts them of someone’s presence, someone clearly trying to get within, and they all rush to the doors to see who it is, Akriel yells when he spots him, Moriah grappling with a guard, his young charge hiding behind him, a pack hanging from his shoulders, he turns, yelling at the boy to run, but the youngling seems hesitant to leave his guardian’s side, he doesn’t want to get to the safety of the Healer’s domain without him, and tugs desperately at the back of the healer’s tunic.

Moriah grunts softly, turning, sparing one hand, to shove the youngling over, before returning to wrestling with the guard trying to take him into custody. Zander yells as he stumbles over, crashing into the Archangel, arms wrap around him before he can rush forward for his beloved guardian, and he screams his name, reaching out for him as best as he can from within the Healer’s grasp.

The healer yells when he’s hit over the back of the head, stumbling forward from the surprise of such an action, and he’s wrestled around harshly, cuffs curled around his wrists, his eyes meeting those of his charge. “Zan, you be good! You listen to what they say! You be good!”

“Mori! Mori, no!” Zander’s voice cracks as he screams, flexing his fingers demandingly, pulling against the Archangel’s grip on him as much as he can. “Mori! Mori! Mori, you can do it! Mori, no! Mori!” He struggles in the Archangel’s arms as his guardian is forced around harshly, pushed forward, being taken from him. “Mori! Mori, no! Mori! Fight back, Mori! Mori!” His guardian’s led away, and he screams, tears breaking free, streaming down his face. “Mori! MORI! MORI, NO! MORI! COME BACK, MORI! COME BACK!” He squirms in the Archangel’s embrace, screaming out for his guardian as he slowly disappears from sight, sobbing ragged sobs. “MORI! MORI, COME BACK! MORI! MORI!”

Raphael lifts the distraught youngling off his feet, despite his struggles and squirming, turning him away from the doors, where his guardian had been just moments before, so cruelly torn away from him. “Close the doors, Akriel.”

His mental specialist hesitates, as he knows he would, he raised Moriah. “Raph—”

“Close the door, Akriel.”

The Healer carries the struggling devastated youngling to a bed, Constantine waits there, having pulled the blankets back, readying it for him. “Costa, give him a dose of Diphenhydramine.” His Virtue nods, turning to the cart quickly, pulling out the syringe of what was requested, and rushes to his side, pulling the cap off the needle with his teeth, he straightens the youngling’s arm, holding it firmly, to keep it still, and sticks the needle in, pushing the plunger, injecting the sedative into his blood stream.

Zander’s struggles slowly become sluggish, winding down, losing their steam, and he hangs limply from the Healer’s arms, the sedative is a quick working one, which is why he requested that specific one, and he carries the limp youngling forward, nodding to the Virtue for his help in settling the boy in the bed, leaning over to tug his boots off and pull the blankets up over him, he brushes his curls out of his eyes sadly, his heart is broken for this little one.

“Costa.” He straightens. “Go get Salathiel, he’s in my office, I have something I need him to do.”

…

“Ak, I swear, I’m okay.” He pushes his fretting old guardian away from him, he’s got other priorities, one that stands about yea high, has silky brown curls, and the most adorable blue eyes. “Stop fretting so much, they never had a chance to touch me, where’s Zan?”

Akriel purses his lips. “Excuse you, I’ll fret over you as much as I like.”

The younger healer looks up at him. “Ak, where’s Zan?”

His guardian sighs, gesturing for him to follow him, and steps away, he rises quickly, following dutifully, and rushes around him when he’s close enough to see his boy, laying on a bed sleeping, it’s a natural sleep, but forced, he can tell it was forced, they’ve been drugging his sweet beloved little charge. He throws himself forward to sit on his bedside, brushing his fingers through his curls, smiling down at him sadly. “Oh, little Zan, I’m so sorry, everything’s going to be okay now.” He leans over, for the pack that rests against the bedside table, tugging it open, pulling out the boy’s beloved stuffed octopus, tucking it under his arm carefully.

Akriel rubs at his shoulder lightly. “He’s been slightly hysterical, we’ve been drugging him, so he can’t bring himself, or others, to harm.”

He looks up to the Virtue. “Help me push these two beds together.”

The older healer nods, and they both cross around to the next bed, pushing it over, resting against the side of the boy’s bed. He tugs his boots off, and climbs in next to the boy, pulling him around, pulling him in close, he want’s him to know he’s there as soon as he wakes up again, whenever that may be, from what he’s been told, what they’ve been giving him is quite strong.

Akriel shakes a blanket out and drapes it over them, leaning over to press a kiss to the side of his head, whispering to him on how happy he is that he’s here, safe and sound, before leaving him to rest for the night with his beloved boy.

A short time later, Raphael and his blacksmith come to rest at the foot of the two beds, watching them both sleep peacefully, and the Archangel looks down at the smaller angel. “Thank you, Salathiel, for getting him for me.”

The blacksmith waves his appreciation away. “Raph, they’re taking healers, the ones who don’t live in the dorms, like Moriah, the guards are collecting them and imprisoning them, I recognized a few of them when I was there to break him out.”

He looks up when he sees his Archangel’s head flit around to look down at him once more, their eyes meeting, the Healer stares at him, searching his eyes, as though searching for any sign of falsehood, and growls when he finds none. “He’s going too far.” He grits his teeth, turning back to watch his sleeping healer and his charge, watching them sleep peacefully together. “Taking my healers from me.” Electricity crackles around him, Salathiel yelps in surprise and jumps away, and he takes a deep breath, to reign his temper back in, and calm himself down. “Salathiel, I want you to do one more thing for me.”

His blacksmith nods. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes, thirty tops, I’d have some beds ready for some of them, not all of them were in good shape.”

Raphael nods firmly. “Noted.”

The blacksmith leaves him there, to watch the two before him sleep on his own, and he hums, nodding to himself, turning away from them, striding back to his office. He’d retrieve his staff, then go collect the healers that lived elsewhere, and take down anyone who stood in his way, mercilessly, he was taking no prisoners, if Michael wanted to play games, then he’d join him, the elder had made his move, it was his turn now.

…

Zander blinks slowly, his mind is still fuzzy, it’s like a cloud has settled over heard, keeping things shadowed, blurry, fuzzy, he smacks his lips lightly, his mouth is dry, and rubs a fist over his half lidded eyes, and looks down at his beloved stuffed octopus in his arms, tilting his head slightly, he didn’t have Bubbles when they put him to sleep the night before.

Something’s rumbling around him, and he looks up, when he realizes it’s the rumbles of a soft snore. The youngling’s eyes widen at the familiar face that rests above him, at the familiar arms curled around him, at the familiar chest he’s pressed again.

“Mori?” He whispers softly, as though he doesn’t believe it, and reaches up hesitantly to touch him, as though waiting for his fingers to go through him, a cruel dream, and he’ll wake up alone in his bed, his beloved guardian still locked up in a cell, taken from him, torn from his side the night before. “Mori?” He pokes a finger into his cheek, the older angel chokes on a snore, and he tugs lightly at his beard. “Mori!” It’s real, Moriah is really here, he’s really here with him, holding him in his arms, pressing him against his chest, and he breathes a harsh sob, throwing himself forward, clutching at the front of his tunic tightly. “Mori!”

The snores cut off, the healer starting, waking suddenly at the impact of a small body plowing into his. Moriah looks down at his beloved boy, hugging him closer, curling a hand around the back of his head, burying his fingers in his curls to scratch at his scalp lightly. “I’m here, little one, I’m here, it’s alright, everything’s alright.”

“Thought I’d never see you again, Mori!”

He coos down at the boy, turning over onto his back, pulling the small youngling up to rest on top of him, pressing his lips firmly to his temple. “I’d never truly leave you, Zan, not really, I love you too much.”

“Promise to never leave again!”

The healer chuckles softly. “I promise, Zan, you’re stuck with me, and all my tickle monster ways.”

Zander giggles softly, soft watery giggles, at the thought of the tickle monster coming after him again. “I love you, Mori.”

“I love you too, my little one, so very much.” He presses another kiss to his temple. “Let’s get a few more hours of sleep.”

…

Raphael smiles at the sound of the younglings squealing laughter, a far cry from the distraught boy they’d been forced to sedate only a couple of days ago, and flips through the charts he’s working on mutely, filling out the paperwork that resides inside.

Moriah smiles down at the squealing cackling youngling laying before him, between his legs, his own resting along his sides, held there by his grace, his arms curled down under him, as he wiggles his index fingers in his absolute worst tickle spot, the inner undercurve of his cheeks, his sweet little Zan needed a visit from the tickle monster rather badly.

The boy bounces, as best as he can under his invisible binds, shimmying his waist from side to side, lifting himself up, away from those two torturously wiggling fingers, clenching up tightly, before he loses his strength and falls back down to those wiggling fingers, and they attacked anew, relentlessly, mercilessly, cackling and squealing much too hard to try and beg him to stop. It tickles so bad, it’s the worst, that’s the worst spot, and Mori knows this, this is the spot he goes to when he’s in trouble, not bad trouble, but in trouble none the less, he pulls him over his lap and attacks this spot for what seems like hours.

Moriah pulls his hands back, pushing Zander’s tunic up, and quickly claws his fingers into his tummy, the youth squeals again and curls his arms around himself as he arches his back.

Deciding he can’t think to finish his paper work, not with the opportunity to torture a little one presenting itself to him, he sets his pen down, scoots his chair back, and stands, squeezing Moriah’s shoulder as he joins them, the boy pants, giggling feverishly at the small reprieve, staring up at the Archangel with bright blue eyes, the brightest eyes he’s seen since the beginning of this war.

Moriah smiles up at him. “Is he being too loud?”

“Not at all.” Raphael returns his smile in kind. “Mind if I join?”

His healer chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Not at all.”

“Great.” The Archangel crosses down to the foot of the bed, resting himself above the boys head, and raises his arms up over his head, resting them down along his sides, holding them there with his grace, and gently tugs his tunic up over his head, looking up to his healer as he positions his fingers above the giggling youngling’s armpits. “Together?”

Moriah laughs softly, positioning his claws back over the boy’s belly, Zander looks between them both with wide alarmed eyes. This wasn’t fair! This wasn’t being fair! “Together.”

…

Zander wanders around when Moriah decides he’s going to take a nap, he’s not tired, and he doesn’t want to cuddle up with Mori while he naps, because then he’ll get really warm and cozy and he’ll end up falling asleep, and he doesn’t want to go to sleep yet. He’s not alone though, he’s got Bubbles to stay with him, and when he looks over his shoulder, he can see Moriah sleeping in their bed, curled up on his side.

He looks at the other patients as he passes them, he wonders what they’re here for, Raph said he was here for emotional distress and emotional exhaustion, he forgets what he said Mori was here for, but he does remember him telling him that he wasn’t here to be a healer, when he tried to pick up a stack of charts, and told him to get back in bed, he’d giggled at the faces he’d made behind the Archangel’s back, and even more so when the Healer turned and pointed a finger at him and told him to stop making faces at his back.

Zander walks passed Gadreel and Abner, sleeping soundly in their beds, they sleep a lot. Then he passes the Powers and their family, they pushed all their beds together, they sat together, playing a game of cards, definitely using their younger family members to cheat.

He wanders down the row of beds and stops when he sees a familiar face, somewhat hidden behind a book, another, younger, was sleeping at their side, and he stops, turning to stare at them, thinking it could be him, but not completely sure, but then it looked like him.

The youngling bites his lip, what if it wasn’t him, what if it was someone else. “Thaddy?”

Familiar blue eyes look up at the call, up over the book, and they stare at each other for a long moment, it feels like an eternity, and then the book starts to lower. “Little Zebra?”

He steps closer. “Thaddy, is it really you?”

“Who else looks like I do except me?”

A smile slowly starts to crawl over his features. “Thaddy!”

The Warden chuckles softly, setting his book down, holding his arms open. “Come greet me properly, you little trouble maker.”

Zander bounces lightly, and darts forward, throwing himself over the familiar man that he’d missed so much. Thaddeus grunts, laughing softly, curling his arms around the youngling he’d grown so fond of during their time together, hugging him close, curling his right hand around the back of his head. Zander clutches at him tightly, his face pressed to his chest, holding on for all he’s worth.

“I missed you, little zebra.”

“I missed you too, Thaddy!” Zander pulls away slightly to look up at him. “I missed you so much!”

He chuckles softly, caressing the boy’s cheek tenderly. “How’s Moriah treating you?”

Zander smiles, looking over to his sleeping guardian for a moment, before looking back. “I love Mori so much! He’s so nice! He makes the best cookies, and he lets me put icing and sprinkles on them, and he reads me so many stories, and there’s so many cuddles, and he’s a big tickle monster!”

“See, I told you that you’d like being with him, didn’t I?”

His smile fades slightly. “Thaddy, you never came, you said you’d come, and you never came. I waited outside for you all day, and then I got angry at Mori when he said that I had to come inside and that you weren’t coming and I pushed him and called him stupid, and then he got angry and spanked me, and you didn’t come.”

“I’m so sorry, Zan.” The Warden rubs his cheek with his thumb. “Something….happened….something bad…..and I couldn’t come.”

Zander frowns slightly. “Did you get hurt, Thaddy?”

He nods lightly. “Something like that, but I’m all better now, Raph fixed me right up.” He pokes the youngling on the nose. “I’ll have to come visit you, and you can show me everything there is to see, and maybe I’ll be lucky enough to come when you and Moriah make your special cookies.”

“Really!” That shining smile is back. “You’ll really come!”

Thaddeus smiles at him, scratching lightly at his cheek, poking him on the nose again. “I wouldn’t miss if for the world.”

The youngling smiles at him, falling back onto his chest, hugging himself close again. “I really missed you, Thaddy, I missed you a whole lot!”

“I missed you too, little one.” He changes the subject, lest the boy get upset again, and he doesn’t want that. “So, Moriah’s a big tickle monster, huh, who’s the biggest tickle monster you know?”

Zander giggles softly, turning to point at the Archangel six beds away, Raphael doesn’t look over, but he does point back, and it makes the youngling giggle again. “Raph is!”

Thaddeus laughs softly and nods. “True, very true.” He pets his curls back. “What are you doing on this cold rainy day?”

The youth smiles. “Well, before me and Mori ran to come here, he had me pack a bag of all the stuff I wanted to bring with me, and I brought some books and a coloring book and some crayons and a puzzle and a boardgame,” he holds up his beloved stuffed octopus. “And, Bubbles, of course.”

“Of course, we can’t leave Bubbles behind.”

“I was gonna color,” Zander tugs on one of Bubbles tentacles. “But, Mori said he wanted to take a nap, and I didn’t want to wake him up on accident, so I went exploring instead.” He smiles up at him. “And, I found you!”

“You most certainly did.” The Warden smiles at him fondly and tugs on one of his ears gently. “Why don’t you go get a coloring book and some crayons and you can color over here with me.”

The youngling smiles widely. “Really!”

“Sure, I’m just reading, Theo’s sleeping, you can come join us and color.”

Zander nods happily. “Okay!” And crawls over the side of the bed, he chuckles softly, shaking his head, as he watches his little youngling dart over to his and Moriah’s bed, disappear around the other side, and reappear a minute later, darting back over with a coloring book and crayons in hand. He lifts his book up as the boy settles down between his legs, resting his coloring book on his stomach, and lowers his arms over his shoulders as the youngling opens his coloring book and box of crayons, immediately coloring in a jellyfish, purple, a purple jellyfish, because purple was one of his favorite colors. “Thanks for letting me color with you, Thaddy.”

He chuckles, leaning forward, pressing a kiss to the boy’s forehead. “You’re always welcome to hang out with me, little guy, it’s been so long, at some point here, I’m going to need to explore all those little spots again.”

The boy giggles wildly and looks up at him, his bright blue eyes shining, and he giggles some more. “Even the really bad spot?”

“Oh, especially the really bad spot.” Zander giggles wildly, catching his hand when he makes to reach back towards that really bad spot, pulling it up under his chin. “One of these days, I’m going to pull you over my knee, and get at that really bad spot for a long while, we’ve got tickle time to catch up on.”

He smiles when the youngling squeals softly at the thought of it, throwing himself back down, clutching his hand tightly, hugging it close. “I’m really happy you’re here too, Thaddy!”

Thaddeus smiles, rubbing a finger from his captured hand over the boy’s cheek. “I’m happy you’re here too, Zan, that means your safe and sound, Raph won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“No, I most certainly will not.” The both of them look up at his deep voice, and the aforementioned Archangel smiles down at them, reaching over to brush Theo’s curls back, smiling when the younger Warden sighs softly and leans into the touch, then reaches up to ruffle the youngling’s curls, Zander smiles, ducking his head like a puppy does, and he chuckles softly. “So, I’m the biggest tickle monster you know, am I?”

He giggles softly. “You heard me?”

“Of course, I heard you, little one, I was only a few beds away.”

Zander giggles again. “You are the biggest tickle monster I know!”

Raphael smiles down at him, poking him on the nose lightly, making him giggle again. “I think I like that title more than any other.”

Chapter Text

“Titus, can I have a moment of your time?” The Power, the captain of the guards looks up at the Healer’s voice, tilting his head curiously. “Just a moment.”

Titus nods, smiling slightly, setting his book aside, adjusting Haniel to sleep on the pillow so he can sit up and turn, resting his feet on the floor. “Of course, Raph, after everything you’ve done for us, it’s the least I could do.”

Raphael smiles at him lightly. “Thank you, I could think of no one better to ask, I want to start collecting the guards, you were the only one I could think of to give me an inkling as to how I should go about doing so.”

The Power blinks up at him. “You want to start taking in guards?”

“Yes,” the Archangel nods firmly. “Michael is taking my healers, I want to take his guards, it seems like an even trade off.”

The younger angel seems hesitant. “You’ll treat them kindly, right, I’d be glad to tell you how to entice my guards to come to you, but I won’t if you’re going to hurt them.”

He waves his hand and shakes his head. “No, no, I want to draw them in so I can take them as a patient, I wouldn’t mistreat them, I’m sure they need just as much care and kindness as everyone else does, if it just so happens to be a blow against my brother at the same time, it’s completely coincidental.”

Titus smiles slightly. “Sure, we’ll go with that logic. I’d gladly tell you how to entice my guards. The ones that prefer their hound form, you’ll easily get them to come to you if you promise them a hot bath and belly rubs. The ones who’s favorite hobby is sleeping, all you need is to offer them a nice warm bed, and they’ll come to you without hesitation, you’ll recognize them by the way they seem to fall asleep no matter their position. Osmadiel can fall asleep standing up, I don’t know how he manages not to keel over, but he doesn’t, it amazes me every time I see it. Most of them like having their heads or shoulders scratched, so if you offer to do so, they’re more likely to come with you then not. That’s basically it. Honestly, they’re all like a bunch of puppies, you could get them to follow you with little to nothing, you just have to smooth talk them, they’re a bunch of puppies, but they’re stubborn puppies.”

Raphael nods in understanding, and gestures over his shoulder. “Would you show me, so I know what I should be doing, how I should entice them properly.”

The Power nods, pushing himself up from the edge of the bed, stretches for a moment, and gestures for him to leave the way. They walk side by side down the main aisle, to the open doors at the entrance of the grand building, where a guard stands on their lonesome, staring straight ahead, their partner is missing, he loathe to think what their reason may be for their absence, but there’s little he can do in the position he’s found himself in, so he pushes that concern to the back of his mind.

He knows this guard, he was one of Thaddeus’s guards, he’d been a prisoner when he was younger, and decided to be a guard because he wanted to go back, he wanted to be with Thaddeus again, and he’d accepted his request to be one of his guards.

Titus comes to a stop just inside the doors, the Archangel coming to rest behind him, the metaphorical student watching the master at work.

He clears his throat lightly, resting a hand on his hip, and inclines his head slightly. “Hey, Sabrathan, if you come in here, I’ll scratch your head.”

Raphael watches in amazement, as the guard’s position falters, his arms lowering slightly, the tip of his sword touching the ground, turning to look over his shoulder at his captain. “Really?”

Titus nods. “Really, if you put your sword down and come in, I’ll scratch your head until you fall asleep, but, you have to put your sword down and come in first, that’s the only way I’ll scratch your head.”

The guard, Sabrathan, turns just a bit more, the thought of getting his head scratched was an overpowering one. “You’re not tricking me, you really will?”

“Have I ever used head scratches as a trick before?”

The young guard shakes his head slightly. “No, no, you haven’t.”

“Then, you know I’m not tricking you; I’ll even do you one more, I’ll scratch behind your ears too.” He gestures to the guards sword. “You just have to set that down and come in here.”

Sabrathan stares at him, clearly locked within an internal battle of wills, one side ordering him to not give in, and the other side reminding him just how much he likes having his head scratched and especially behind the ears.

The Healer shakes his head, amazed, when the guard leans over, resting his sword against the wall beside him, and steps forward, through the doorway, willingly.

Titus smiles at the guard, curling an arm around his waist, pulling him into his side. “Hey, Sabra.”

Sabrathan smiles up at him. “Hi, Tus.”

The Power squeezes him lightly. “Thaddy’s here too.”

The guard’s eyes brighten at the mention of the Warden’s name. “He is?”

“He is, he’s sleeping right now, but I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you when he wakes up.”

“You swear you’ll scratch my head?”

Titus chuckles softly. “Have I ever lied to you?”

Sabrathan shakes his head. “No.”

“Then, I won’t start now.” He turns them around, smiling up at the Archangel, squeezing his guard closer to his side lightly. “It’s that easy.”

By the end of the next day, they have a little over a dozen guards tucked nice and warm into their own beds, content that their heads have been scratched, and more then happy to remain, as long as they got to keep the warm bed and keep getting head scratches whenever there was a free moment to do so.

It’s late into the night of the third day that the left door crashes open, healers jumping at the sound, expecting it to be Michael, enraged over the fact that the younger Archangel was taking his guards away from him, the Powers that are still awake turn to look, Raphael rises from the desk chair quickly, fingers reaching for his bow, just in case, one never knew who posed a threat in these times.

They’re guards, all three of them, one of them is rather young, a pack strung over his shoulders, and the two behind him, clearly older, survey the room carefully. The youth does much of the same, his eyes skimming over faces, until they spot a familiar face, a smile takes over their features, and he darts forward.

“Papa!” Titus rises cautiously, his eyes wide at the sight of them, Nisroc stands behind him, and he catches the younger guard as he throws himself at him. “Papa, I missed you!”

He curls his arms around the young guard, curling his right hand around the back of his head, pulling him back slightly. “Sora?” His youngest guard nods quickly, smiling up at him brightly, and hugs himself close again. This time he pulls him in close, curling around him, his hand still cradling the back of his head. “I’m so happy you’re safe, little angel, that you’re okay.”

The two older guards come up behind their youngest just as the Healer meets them from the other side, smiling down at Sorath for a moment, before turning his attention to the oldest of the three.

“Sabaoth, what can I do for you?”

The Prison’s head guard sighs softly. “I was hoping you’d take us in.”

Raphael hums softly, nodding lightly. “What are your ailments?”

Sabaoth looks over at his brother, Osmadiel nods lightly, and he turns to look at Sorath, still clutching at Titus, curled around him, the two of them whispering softly to each other, before returning his gaze to the Healer. “Broken hearts.”

The Archangels hums again, nodding once more, gesturing to one of the healers nearest them. “Shoftiel, would you get us three pairs of tunics and trousers?”

The healer nods up at him, parting from his side to fetch what he was sent for, and he turns his attention back to the three guards. “Are any of your injured?” Sorath turns to look at his older brother over his shoulder, Titus follows his gaze curiously, Sabaoth stares back at the Archangel, and Osmadiel elbows his brother in the side. “Sabaoth, is there something you wish to share with me?”

He nods, sighing softly. “I think my hand is broken.”

Nisroc steps up to the Archangel’s side at the admission. “How did you come about breaking your hand?”

“We tried to come under the cloak of night, but Michael has guards posted at the entrance of the training field, we met, we had a bit of a skirmish, and I think I broke my hand.”

Raphael hums softly. “I see, well, I’ll take a look at it.” He gestures for him to follow after him and for Osmadiel to take the bed on his captain’s other side, to which he sighs in appreciation, and collapses face first into the pillows, many of them snort at his actions. “Come, Saba, I’ll get you patched up, good as new.”

Sabaoth presses his hand to Sorath’s back as he passes him, trusting him to be safe with his papa, and follows after the Healer, Nisroc falling in step at his side.

Titus smiles, looking down to his little angel, and Sorath pulls back slightly, to look up at him, giggling softly when he leans in to kiss the tip of his nose, before pulling him back into his chest, hugging him tightly. “I’m so happy you’re here, Sora, so very happy.”

“Papa, it was scary, Michael is scary, he called you a traitor and said that if any of us defended you or spoke your name, he’d dismiss us and take us to the Prison, and that’s even scarier, because Sampson took over after Thaddy and Theo left, and Sampson is really mean.” Sorath turns his head slightly, resting his ear on his papa’s chest, listening to his heart beat for a moment. “Saba said we had to get out, he said we had to come see Raph, because if Raph agreed to take us in, then Michael wouldn’t be able to hurt us, and he told me to pack a bag of things I wanted to bring with me and to close my door and come hide in his room with him, Os held me hand, because I was scared, and when everyone else retreated to their rooms, Saba said it was time to go, and we snuck out, and the guards at the entrance started yelling and Saba and Os fought with them, I was gonna help, but they told me to stay back, and I didn’t want to make them mad at me, so I stayed back, and they beat up the two guards and pulled me forward, saying that we had to be sneaky and quiet so we wouldn’t get caught by the patrols. It was scary, because we almost got caught a few times, and I wanted to cry because I was scared and didn’t know where you were, but Saba and Os told me everything would be okay, and then we got here, and you were here, and everything’s okay now.”

“Oh, my baby angel.” Titus squeezes him in just a tad bit closer, pressing his lips to the top of his head, curling his hand around the side of his head, holding him close. “You’re safe here. Raph won’t let anyone hurt you. I’m never letting you go again.”

Sorath sniffs softly. “I missed you, papa, I was really scared when you just disappeared, and then Michael came back saying you no longer existed, and I thought something really bad happened to you.” He tugs on the Power’s sleeve lightly. “Can I sleep with you, papa?”

“I’m not letting you sleep anywhere else but in my arms.” He rubs his back and pulls him away slightly. “Why don’t you show me what you brought with you?”

The young guards face brightens, and he nods, tugging his pack off, stepping forward when he’s pulled forward, toeing off his boots when papa tells him to, and sits on his bed with him, papa sitting in front of him, and he pulls his pack around into his lap. “It was really hard picking what I wanted to bring because I love everything, but Saba said I could only bring what I could fit in my pack, so I had a small hard time, but figured it out.” He pulls the pack open and pulls out his dolphin first, the most important thing, he can’t sleep without it. “I brought my dolphin, I had to bring him, I can’t sleep without him.”

Titus chuckles softly, reaching out to set the dolphin in his lap. “Oh, I know, baby angel, I know all too well.”

Sorath giggles softly and pulls a few story books out of his pack, chapter books, so it would take a while to read them. “I brought some stories.” He pulls three small bags full of puzzle pieces, Saba had clearly helped him pack so he could bring as much with him that he could, and he smiles at the thought. “I brought some puzzles.” He reaches back in and pulls out a hand full of toy cars. “I brought some cars.” He reaches back in and pulls out a very familiar robot. “I brought the robot, because it was the first toy you ever gave me, and I didn’t want anything bad to happen to it.”

He’s touched by that.

Sorath reaches back into his pack and pulls out the train Nisroc had gotten him. “I brought my train.” He sets it down with the small pile that’s building between them and reaches back into his pack, pulling out the airplane Sabaoth had given him. “I brought my airplane.” He pulls the last thing out of his pack, a couple of coloring books and a large box of crayons. “And, I brought stuff to color with.”

Titus smiles at him, looking down at the collection he’d brought with him. “You brought quite a bit, baby angel, did Saba help you pack?”

“Yea, he said to pack smart, and showed me how, so I could bring more!”

He gestures for the young guard to put his things away, but keeps his dolphin, it’s time for bed. “No playtime tonight, it’s late, passed the bedtime for little angels. Go on and change into those clothes the healer brought you.”

“Okay, papa.” Sorath quickly tucks everything back in his pack, except his dolphin, he can’t sleep without his dolphin, and quickly changes into the new clothes that had been left for him. “I can still sleep with you, right papa?”

The Power smiles up at him, lifting the edge of the blankets for him, and his little angel smiles as he slides in next to him, tucking himself in close to his side, laying his head in the crook of his shoulder. “Of course, little angel, I already told you, you’re not sleeping anywhere else.”

…

“Um…Raph?” Oren pats his Archangel on the shoulder, gesturing to the thing coming through the door, and Raphael leans over to get a better look, watching the large hound walk through the door, passed the guards posted there, that they had yet to bring in, they were waiting until night fall, it walks slowly down the aisle, limping slightly, almost stalking forward, a predator, daring anyone to come near, growling at anyone who it determined got to close, carrying a small dalmatian puppy in it’s mouth. “Do you know of any guards who look like that?”

He stands from his chair, watching the hound turn towards a bed, Nisroc looks down in surprise, leaning over to take the puppy from the hound’s mouth, it whines softly, carefully jumping up on the oldest Power’s bed, laying down, favoring it’s right leg.

Holding a hand out, to stay his Virtue, he steps forward cautiously, not wanting to startle the wounded hound, it does him no good though, as he draws nearer, the hound picks up the sound of his soft footsteps approaching, and turns, growling at him lowly.

Raphael stops short, holding his hands up placatingly, not wanting to incite the skittish hound’s fight or flight reflex.

“Era,” the Power speaks softly, gently, brushing the hounds ears back, drawing it’s attention away from the Archangel and over to him. “It’s alright.” The hound whines softly, tilting it’s head in such a way that it can lick the Power’s fingers. “It’s alright, he’s not going to hurt you, he wants to help.” The hound barks softly. “No, he’s not like him, you know Raph, has he ever hurt you?” The hound barks again, leaning forward to nudge the puppy, which makes the pup yap and bat a paw at it, and Nisroc smiles, scratching at the little dalmatian’s head with a finger. “He won’t hurt Spot either, you remember him, he gave you a rope toy, remember, he’s given you a number of toys.”

The hound turns to look up at the Archangel, barking softly, laying down on it’s left paw, and he takes that as his invitation to come closer.

The Healer pulls the chair around and sits, scooting up to the edge of the bed, scratching a finger behind the hound’s ear. “Erathaol, did you bring your puppy all the way here on a bad leg?” The hound snuffles softly, turning it’s head, trying to nip at his fingers, and he chuckles, petting it’s long ears back. “Let me take a look, cub?” The hound pushes itself up, and he makes a face, when it leans forward, and a warm tongue laps over his face, and he laughs softly, turning his head, pushing the hound back gently. “Yes, yes, I’ll take you in, settle down.” The hound barks softly, laying back down, nudging his hand gently, and he takes that as his cue to examine it’s right leg. “Nothing too bad, now, just a fracture, we’ll bind it up.” He pokes the hound on the nose. “No changing forms until it heals, understand?”

Erathaol barks softly, licking at his fingers, and he smiles down at the hound, leaning over for the cart resting at the head of the bed, pulling it closer so he can reach in for a brace and wrap of bandages. “After this, you curl on down with Nis and your puppy and get a good night’s sleep, alright?”

The hound barks again, watching him work, licking at his fingers when he’s done, and he chuckles, rubbing the hound’s ears back again. “You’re quite welcome. You have a nice sleep. I’ll give you a new toy tomorrow morning in the wake of your missing bunny.” The hound whines, leaning over to lick his fingers again, nudging them with his snout. “I know, it’s not going to be your beloved bunny, but it’s something. How about a nice bone?” The hound perks up at the offering. “Yes, a bone, will that suffice?” Erathaol barks brightly, standing slightly, to lick his cheek, and Raphael chuckles softly, pushing the hound away again. “You’re welcome, you’re quite welcome, I’ll have it for you in the morning. But, only if you get a good nights sleep.” The hound huffs, flopping over to lay on it’s side, covering it’s eyes with it’s good paw, and he laughs softly, Nisroc snorts in amusement, and he leans forward, patting the hound’s belly. “Very good.”

…

They stand together at the doors, just within the doorway, watching the two guards standing there, paying them no mind, ignoring them, actually.

“They’re Prison guards.” Raphael looks down at him when Titus hums, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully, and nods to himself. “I’ll be right back.”

The Archangel watches him turn away, walking down the aisle, passing by healers as they worked, stopping at the bed farther down, he knows who’s on that bed, Titus says something, he can’t hear what it is from his position, and then he nods, turning back, making his way back down the aisle, Thaddeus steps out from between the two beds, following after him mutely. He looks around him when Titus comes to stand at his right and Thaddeus comes to rest at his left, he’s not used to collecting guards, he didn’t typically interact with the ones outside of those already stationed at his Infirmary, out of everyone he has under his care, Titus and Thaddeus interacted with the most of them on a daily basis, they had a relationship with them, they trusted them, and in return, they trusted them.

Titus gestures to the two guards and the Archangel turns to look at him. “I thought they’d respond to you best, Thaddy, you remember them, right?”

Thaddeus chuckles softly and snorts, amused, and the Archangel turns to look down at him too. “Of course, I do, I’d never forget my little playthings—I mean guards. I’d never forget my little guards.” He rests his hands on his hips lightly, takes a brief moment, and crosses his arms loosely, making to address the two guards. “Hey, Abusdarhon, Bazazath, want some tickles?”

Raphael raises an eyebrow at that inquiry, and turns when he sees movement, his eyebrows raising when the two guards turn to look behind them, their eyes zoning in on the Warden immediately.

They stare at him, and Thaddeus smiles, lifting his right hand and waves his fingers at them. “Hey guys. You still like tickles don’t you?”

The two guards nod slightly, their eyes flitting to those of the Archangel for a moment, as though expecting judgement, and turn back to the Warden when he merely smiles at them, no judgement to be had.

Thaddeus hums softly, leaning forward slightly. “I imagine you don’t get very many these days, do you?”

Both guards shake their heads mutely.

He turns his head slightly, addressing the one on the right. “Abusdarhon, you want some belly tickles?” The guard bites his lip and nods lightly. “I can give you some belly tickles, I’d be more than happy to, you just have to put your sword down,” he holds his right hand out. “And, take my hand.” Abusdarhon bites his lip, faltering, looking over when his brother grips his arm tightly, shaking his head mutely, so Thaddeus turns to him too. “Bazazath, do those little toes want some tickles?” The other guard turns to look at him mutely, takes a moment, and nods lightly. “If you put your sword down and come take my hand, I’ll give those toes as many tickles as you want, you just have to put down that sword, and come take my hand.” He holds out his left hand.

Abusdarhon and Bazazath exchange looks, and the Healer shakes his head in equal parts wonder and amusement when they both lean over to set their swords down, and steps forward to take their Warden’s hands.

Thaddeus smiles at them, tugging them closer, pulling them into his sides. “After everything I’m sure you’ve been through, you need tickles.”

“I want tickles, Thaddy.”

“Me too.”

Raphael smiles in amusement, shakes his head lightly, of course Thaddeus would be able to entice his guards with tickles, of course he would. “Prison guards, you said, Tus?”

The Power nods up at him. “Prison guards. They’re quite taken with him, they’ll want to be near him, they were his prisoners when they were younger, and became Prison guards so they could be with him again.”

“Really?” That was interesting. “That’s adorable, I’ll have beds made up for them next to Thaddy.”

…

“Oh, I know this one.” Titus sounds immensely amused and immensely sad in the same breath, and he turns to look down at him in concern, the Power stares straight ahead at the guard posted there, one this time, no one was sure where his partner was. “I’ll be right back.”

Raphael watches him turn away, making his way over to their cluster of beds, and addresses Abraxos for a moment. The second oldest Power’s eyes widen in alarm and surprise, and he nods quickly, jumping up behind the young Power as Titus turns back around, to return to the Archangel’s side, Abraxos right on his heels.

The older Power comes to stand between them, staring at the back of the guards head in disbelief, and a smile slowly crosses over his features, and he opens his arms. “Chayyliel, get in here and give me a hug.”

Their Guard drops his sword, jumping around, wide eyes looking for the source of the call, and then he smiles when his eyes fall on the Power. “Abe!” And jumps through the doorway, throwing himself at the second oldest Power, Abraxos laughs, catching him around the middle, lifting him off his feet as they clutch at each other, and he spins the young guard around in elation. This one is the youngest guard he’s seen, and he thinks his brother is insane, to have guards this young, his mind recognizes the face though, and he tries to place where he knows that name. “Abe, I missed you so much! I came to see you and you weren’t there and Michael said you were a traitor and that you were gone!”

“I’m a traitor? Nice, good to know.” Abraxos chuckles softly, leaning forward to press their foreheads together, Chayyliel giggles softly, leaning in to rub their noses together. “Will you be a traitor with me, Chayy?”

“Yes!”

The older Power smiles at his younger brother, Titus gives him a thumbs up, and he turns away to return to his bed.

Raphael watches them go with immense confusion. “What just happened?”

Titus laughs softly at his confusion and turns to look up at him. “Chayy was Abe’s third Elect. He’s his papa.”

“Third Elect…But….Chayyliel, where have I heard that name before, I’ve seen him before…” He sifts through his memories, trying to place him, he knows he’s seen him before, and slowly, his eyes widen. “He’s one of the Returned.”

“Yep, one of the last ones given back before Father left again.”

…

They started noticing a pattern with the guards being posted outside the Infirmary, Titus confirmed them day after day, they were Prison guards, he’d swapped places with Thaddeus, and the Warden pulled them in like nectar does bees.

Pesagniyah, Nahaliel, Zehampuryu, Sroasha, Asteraoth, Xanthanael, Gazardiel, Harahel, Galgaliel, Kalaziel, Yabbashael, Yerachmiel, Zagenach, Zazakiel, and Zaphkiel.

Thaddeus pulled them in one after the other, without any trouble or hesitation, he offered them something, whatever was on his mind, most of the time it was tickles, and it amused him to no end that so many of his guards liked them, and they took to it as a babe does it’s milk. It seemed fitting though, considering who their Warden was, and what his personal brand of torture consisted of, when it came to both guards and prisoners.

“Rog, Mendi, want a hug?” Thaddeus smiles, and Raphael shakes his head in amusement, when their two latest guards simply toss their swords aside and turn, walking into their Warden’s open arms, curling around him as much as they can, they force him back a step, and he laughs softly as he curls his arms around them. “I thought you would.”

…

Thaddeus grins at his side, and despite his saying not to, he rushes forward, he seems to recognize this guard, as one would expect, the ones that were being posted there had been his, and catches their current guard up around the waist, he was small, he was swept up completely, yelping and shrieking in surprise, dropping his sword as he throws his hands up in response to his shock. The guard shrieks with laughter as the Warden claws his fingers into his belly as best as he could given his hold on him, and he bends slightly, hands shooting down to curl around his Warden’s, and Thaddeus turns around to return inside the Healer’s Infirmary. “Come on, Azbogah, we’ve got to make sure your mood is staying positive.”

“Thahahaadddyyy! Nohohoho! Iihihihit’s gohohohohood! Ihihihit’s goohohohohood!”

“But we’ve got to be sure it stays that way.”

…

Titus has Puriel join them when he sees who their guard is this time, and the medic whistles lowly, cracking his fingers lightly, wiggling them for a moment, and calls out to their guard. “Peliel, that chubby little tummy’s about to get the tickling of a lifetime, so many claws, so many berries, so many nibbles.”

The guard shrieks softly, dropping his sword to curl his arms around his belly, as he turns around at the call of his name and the threat that came with it. “Puri, no! No claws! No berries! No nibbles!”

“Puri, yes!” The third oldest Power nods lightly. “Oh, it’s getting all of the berries and claws and nibbles, all of them.” He wags a finger at him in a gesture for him to come to him. “Peli, you better get in here, because if you make me come out there and get you, it’s going to be so much worse.”

Peliel looks over to his captain desperately. “Tus! Tell him he can’t!”

“And, what, risk becoming his victim instead of you, I think not.” Titus shakes his head, smiling in amusement at the guard’s eyes widening at his lack of protection from the tickle monster that was the older Power, and his head flits back around to the deviously smiling medic. “If I were you, I’d come in, because you know how bad he’ll be if you make him come get you.”

“If I come in, do you promise not to give me any nibbles?”

Puriel snorts and nods. “If you come in, I won’t give you any nibbles.”

Chapter Text

Sidriel whimpers as they make their way up the stairs, his hands cuffed behind his back, it’s more so out of fear of the guards standing at the entrance then of the one leading him up, he knows him, he knows he would never hurt him.

The doors are closed, and he feels fear swell up inside of him, what if they were locked, what if they couldn’t get in, what if he said he wouldn’t take them into his care, they’d have to go back, he would get in trouble and his friend would get in trouble, and he didn’t want either of them to get in trouble.

As they reach the top, the guards posted before the closed doors block their path, and his friend tugs him roughly to a stop. “We’re here at Sampson’s orders, he needs this one fixed up so he can begin again, he won’t be pleased if he finds out you inhibited us from following his orders.” The two guards look them over, and for a moment, he feels as though they’ll see their bluff and take them back to Sampson’s questionable mercy.

They exchange looks and nod, parting for them, and he’s led forward again. He stops when he’s tugged back, and his friend rubs his arm slightly as he reaches around him to push at the massive heavy door. When it doesn’t budge, tears form in his eyes, they’re going to fail, they’re not going to get in. His friend turns, pressing his back against the door, pushing as much as he could, and the door finally gives, moving slowly, inch by inch, and his friend reaches forward quickly, tugging him backwards, between the crack he’d created in the doors, and he stumbles, tripping over his feet, falling backwards into his friend, sending them both falling backwards to the floor.

The door closes with a bang, and he shakes his head, his friend groaning lightly. “Sid….Are you okay?”

He nods lightly. “I’m okay, Dama.”

Someone clears their throat, and they turn to look at each other, before looking up to the source. Raphael stares down at them, his arms crossed loosely, looking between the two of them expectantly. “What can I do for you, boys?”

Sidriel swallows thickly, the only Archangel he’s met is Michael, and he’s not kind, he’s not sure if he wants to meet this one, he hasn’t had a good experience meeting Archangels.

Damabiath licks his lips. “We were hoping you’d take us in?”

“I see,” the Archangel hums, looking them over carefully, with a critical eye. “What are your ailments?”

The guard licks his lips again, looking around to his friend, Sidriel’s staring at the Archangel in fear, and he hates it, he doesn’t want his friend to be scared. “My prisoner has been beaten.”

“That’s his, what’s yours?”

Damabiath turns back to stare at him, the Healer’s green eyes bore down into his, and he shakes his head lightly, swallowing thickly. “I…I don’t have one, sir….”

“Please, sir, don’t make him go back!” Sidriel finally speaks, despite his fear of the Archangel, and scoots closer to his only friend. “He’ll be in so much trouble!”

Raphael turns his attention to the prisoner for a moment. “I can only take him if he has an ailment that needs tending to.” And, returns his attention to the guard. “Is your heart broken?”

The young guard stares at him for a moment. “Yes.”

“I see,” the Healer uncrosses his arms, leaning over to lift the prisoner to his feet first, curling his fingers under his arms to pick him up, then he does the same with the guard. “Broken hearts are just as serious as anything else. I’ll take you both.”

They smile up at him, and he smiles down at them in return, turning slightly, gesturing for them to follow him, and they nod, following after him as he steps forward, leading them down the aisle, passed rows of beds. He leads them to a pair of empty beds, made up and ready to be used, and turns to face them once more, addressing the guard first. “Do you have the key for your friends cuffs?”

Damabiath nods lightly, fishing into his pocket for the key, and leans forward to set it in his hand when the Archangel reaches out.

Raphael turns the small prisoner around, inserting the key into the lock on each cuff, and release them, pulling them off from around his wrists. “Alright, I want to examine you both.” He turns to the healer standing at his side, having come to offer any aide he might find himself needing. “Ansiel, would you fetch a two clean tunics and trousers?” She nods, squeezing his arm lightly, and turns to retrieve what she was sent after, and he turns his attention back to the duo before him. “Strip down.”

They stare at him.

“Now.”

They start stripping.

Sidriel whines, struggling with his tunic, as his hands start shaking from the pain, and Damabiath turns to help him pull his top above his head, taking one of his hands to offer him some comfort, and as much of his strength he can muster.

“That’s concerning.” The Healer points to the prisoner first. “I’ll look you over first. You’re rather thin, you both are, you both need a filling meal, you need some meat on those bones.” He looks down, gesturing to his arms. “Your wrists are chafed, we can rub some ointment on them to soothe the burn, wrap some bandages around them to keep them from being agitated.” He twirls his finger. “Turn.” Damabiath lets go of his hand so he can turns around and takes hold of his other one. “These are some rather nasty burns.” The prisoner whines softly as cool fingers brush over his back. “Nothing too serious, though, second degree burns for sure, the skin isn’t broken, we’ll need to cool them down before tending to them.” He guides him forward by the shoulders. “Lay down, on your belly, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you’ll have to let go of your friend’s hand.”

Sidriel whines again, tightening his grip on his guard’s hand, and Damabiath bites his lip, he’s never talked to the Healer personally, the only Archangel he’s really interacted with is Michael, and it’s never pleasant, but he nods resolutely, tightening his grip around his prisoner’s hand. “No.” Raphael turns to look down at him in mild surprise at his tone. “We’re not letting go.”

They stare at each other for a long moment and the Archangel sighs deeply. “Fine, move up there, to the head of the bed.” He nods, stepping forward, as he was told, and Sidriel breathes a soft sigh of relief with the knowledge that he doesn’t have to let go of his guard’s hand, and carefully lowers himself to lay on the bed, on his belly, as he was instructed to. “Good boy, you lay there, and you stand there.” They both nod, watching the Healer turn, squatting slightly to open the door on the bedside table, pulling out a few cloths, and soaks them in the cool water in the bowl on the bedside table, rings them out one by one, and turns back, laying them down over the prisoner’s back. The youth inhales sharply at the feeling, tensing for a moment, and he rubs the back of his head. “It’ll only be a moment before the ache subsides.”

Damabiath squeezes his friend’s hand and looks up at the Archangel as he straightens up. “Thanks for taking us.”

Raphael smiles down at him, reaching out to pat him on the cheek fondly. “I would have taken you regardless, all of that was for formality, what’s your name, little one?”

The guard smiles up at him. “Damabiath, everyone calls me Dama.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, little Dama.” He presses a hand to his chest. “I’m Raphael, you can call me Raph.” He leans over, poking him in the belly sharply, smiling when the young guard squeaks and jolts. “And, don’t ever call me ‘sir’.”

“Okay, si—Raph.”

The Healer chuckles softly. “I’ll let that minor slip slide, just this once, what’s your friend’s name?”

Dama tugs on his friend’s hand. “Sidriel, but everyone calls him Sid.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” He turns to pull the cloths up off the prisoner’s back, setting them on the bedside table, and squats again to open the third drawer of the cart, reaching in for the clear jar, before standing once more and turning back to his current patient. “This will be a tad cool, but it won’t burn, that I can guarantee.”

Sidriel nods, turning his head, looking up at his friend, Damabiath smiles down at him, squeezing his hand lightly. He makes a small noise at the chilliness from it as the Archangel rubs the ointment on his back tenderly, carefully, mindful of not agitating the burns as he does.

“Alright, let’s sit you up, I’m going to wrap some bandages around you.”

Damabiath follows his movement as he stands up, leaning to the side when the Healer pushes him slightly, leaning around him for the cart again, withdrawing a thick swath of bandages, wrapping them carefully around the prisoner’s midsection, rubs the ointment around his wrists and bandages those as well. Ansiel returns shortly after, with their new clothes in her arms, Raphael thanks her softly, passing her the wet cloths, asking her to retrieve them two full plates for supper, and she nods again, departing once more.

“Here, you’ll have to let go of your friend’s hand for a short moment to dress.” He passes one pair to the guard, Damabiath squeezes his friend’s hand before letting go to take his clothes, watching the Archangel help his friend dress as he does so himself. The Archangel guides him backwards again, standing behind the head of Sidriel’s bed. “I’ll push the beds together. Stand here.” They watch him do as he said he was, pushing the other bed up against the one the prisoner resides in, and they smile at him in appreciation, something of which he returns, and gestures to them both and then the beds. “Under the blankets, now, we’ll stoke the fireplace behind you both, but there’s no such thing as being too warm in this weather. I didn’t think to have Ansiel get you both a pair of wool socks, so I’ll go get them for you, she’ll be back with your supper, and I want you to eat every morsel, you’re both much too thin.”

They both crawl up under their blankets and look up at him.

Sidriel nods lightly. “Yes, sir.”

He blinks when the Archangel points down at him. “Don’t call me that, call me Raph, not sir, I am not as formal as my brother is. I’ll let it go just this once, but it if happens again, I’ll have to take action, and if I can’t at that present moment, I’ll let Thaddeus have you.”

They both lean forward. “Thaddy’s here?” He’s not sure who said it, they spoke at the same time, in perfect unison. “He’s him again? He’s okay?”

Raphael blinks down at them, he hadn’t expected that, though, perhaps he should have, Thaddeus’s guards and prisoners had always been quite taken with him, and he nods, gesturing to the empty bed next to them. “That’s his bed, he’s in the washroom with Theo at the moment.”

The two friends exchange looks, something crosses between them, and while he’s rather good at reading silent conversations, he can’t quite place what is said between them in their stare, before they both turn to look up at him again, and Dama nods. “Okay.”

He narrows his eyes at them for a moment, as though trying to piece together what they just shared with each other, makes a gesture that eludes that he’s watching them, and makes his leave, to retrieve their socks, and check in on his other patients.

Sidriel turns to look at his friend, his brother, his other half. “Dama, Thaddy’s with Theo.”

“I know.” Dama intones softly, looking down at his hands for a moment, before turning to look at his friend. “But, at least Thaddy’s here too, I can overlook Theo if Thaddy’s there.”

“But, Dama, Theo’s the one that—”

“I know, little brother, I know.”

They both look up at the sound of his voice, it’s soft, and they watch him walk down the aisle, his arm curled around Theo’s shoulders, and they remain as silent as the night around them, watching him guide the younger Warden down into the other side of their conjoined beds, tucking the blankets up around his shoulders, and then he rises.

They stare at each other for a long, long moment.

“Dama…..Sid…Is that you?”

Sidriel slides his hand into his guard’s and Damabiath squeezes his fingers, speaking for the both of them, when he responds. “That depends.”

Thaddeus tilts his head slightly. “Depends on what?”

The guard bites his lip, his eyes flitting down to the Co-Warden, sleeping on his side already, before they rise back to the Warden’s, Sidriel squeezes his hand and responds for him, softly. “Are you our Thaddy, or Theo’s Thaddy?”

“Am I who?”

Damabiath makes a small noise. “Are you the normal Thaddy or the Thaddy that traitor made?”

“Damabiath, do not call him that.”

The guard huffs softly. “Why not, it’s true.”

“Don’t make me come over there and set you straight, Damabiath, if I say not to call him that, then you don’t, got it?”

Sidriel shrinks at the tone, tugging on his guards hand, and Dama turns to look at him. “He’s not ours. Ours didn’t talk like that. He’s…He’s not our Thaddy.”

“There’s no your Thaddy or his Thaddy, it just me, just Thaddy, no one persons version, and if you don’t believe me, Sid, I can always come over there and have a go at those ticklish little toes of yours.” Damabiath smiles at his brother and friend. “And, don’t you think for even a moment, Dama, that I won’t have a go at those armpits while I’m there.”

They smile at each other at the threat, and turn to look back up at him, he smiles down at them and winks. “I’m back, boys, I’ve got a new feather, and I’m raring to go.” Thaddeus rubs at his beard lightly. “I’m just not sure what to do first, twirl my feather around Dama’s armpits, or thread my feather through Sid’s toes.”

They both giggle lightly at that statement, one curling their arms around themselves and the other curling their feet up under them, and he smiles at their actions, crossing around the beds, coming to sit on the edge of their conjoined beds. “Come here, you two, give me a hug.” He opens his arms, and they crawl forward, curling around him tightly, holding on as though their life depended on it.

He presses a kiss to the top of their heads and squeezes them both close. “I missed you both so much. Are you two alright? Are either of you hurt?”

Damabiath inhales softly, taking in the Warden’s scent, it meant home and safety. “They burned Sid.”

Thaddeus turns to the other. “Sid?”

Sidriel curls in closer. “I’m okay, Thaddy, Raph took care of it, doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“Truth?”

He nods. “I’m telling the truth, I swear.”

The Warden sighs softly, closing his eyes, holding them as close as he can, neither one of them wanting to let go until they have to, and they do, when Ansiel returns with their supper, they part, and he leans over so she can pass the two of them their plates, and turns to look at them sternly. “Every bite, you two, nothing left on that plate.”

They both giggle softly. “Got it, Thaddy.”

Chapter Text

The creaking of one of the windows being pulled open fills the silence of the resting Infirmary, the patients, most of the patients, are sleeping soundly in their beds, it’s late in the night, and heards turn to look at the mysteriously open window in surprise, staring at it in confusion when nothing seems to follow. Raphael holds his hand out, staying his Virtues from approaching the open window, in the event it was an awaiting ambush, someone attempting to pull someone out under Michael’s orders, and he draws his blade out from where he keeps it tucked in the leather belt wrapped around his waist. He peers out the window cautiously, looking first to the left, then to the right, and then he looks downwards.

Hands appear on the windowsill, and the Healer heaves an exasperated sigh, tucking the blade back into his belt, and leans over the windowsill. He pulls the owner of the hands up, and soon arms appear, wrapping around the Healer’s waist, as they were lifted up into the Infirmary through the window.

He throws himself at the Archangel, curling around him as tight as he can manage, pressing himself deep into his chest, as he was set back to rest on his feet. The chest under him rumbles with a deep hum, and arms encircle around him in turn, holding him tightly and protectively.

“Raph, please take me in! Please! I don’t wanna go there! Please!”

A hand rubs down the back of his head. “Go where, little one?”

“The Prison! I don’t wanna go there! Please! Please, take me in!”

The hand stills for just a moment, curling around the back of his neck soothingly, massaging lightly. “What ails you, little bumblebee?”

He clings to the Healer with all his strength. “My heart!”

“Is your heart broken, Zaveriel?” He smiles softly when the young messenger nods against his chest. “Broken hearts are most serious ailments.” He bends over the little messenger, hugging him tightly against his chest, and kisses the top of his head. “I’ll take you in, little bumblebee, broken hearts need immediate care.” Zaveriel nods silently, pressing himself closer, and the Archangel curls his hand around the back of his head again.

Raphael turns to his Captain. “Oren, will you continue working on the charts on my desk?” He looks back down to his little messenger. “I have a new patient to tend to.” The Virtue nods mutely, looking over his littlest brother with great concern, it was unlike the excitable messenger to be so subdued. “Of course, Raph, I’ll tell the others.”

Trusting his Captain to run things while he was otherwise preoccupied, he gently turns himself and the small messenger around. “Let’s go get you some clean clothes.” He guides the distraught youngling away, curled close into his side, heading for the cabinets on the far right wall. Zaveriel walks with him, as silent as the night he had crept through, clutching at his tunic as he pressed himself as close as he could. He rubs at his shoulder tenderly, reaching up with his free hand to open the cupboard doors, withdrawing a clean tunic and a pair of trousers.

Tucking the clean clothes under his arm, he guides the quivering messenger back around, heading towards the washroom. “We’ll get you cleaned up before putting you in these clean clothes.”

They cross silently over the threshold, the messenger still clutching tightly to his tunic, walking through the stone archway that led to the large magnificent chasm that was the Infirmary’s washroom.

Zaveriel whines lightly when he pries his hand away from clutching at his tunic. “It’s alright, little bumblebee, you are mine now, no one can take you, you’re safe here with me.” Raphael gestures to the table carved out of the side of the stone wall. “I’m merely going to get you some soap. Do you see that bench there?” Zaveriel nods. “Then, keep your eyes on me, I’m going to get you some soap, I’ll be right back, alright?” Zaveriel nods again.

He watches the Healer pull the hand curled in the back of his tunic away, and step away from his side to fetch what he had gone for, Zaves watches him gather up a bar of lavender soap, his favorite soap, and a washcloth, reaching over to the shelf next to him for a nice large towel, they’re always warm, always, and then he turns around, to return to his side.

Raphael drapes the towel over his arm, with the tunic and trousers, and looks down to his little bumblebee. “Strip out of those clothes for me.”

The younger angel nods, undoing the leather belt from around his waist first, depositing it in the Healer’s outstretched hand, and bends slightly to tug his tunic up over his head, bending over to tug his trousers off, and deposits those in the Archangel’s outstretched hand as well. His old guardian passes him the washcloth and lavender soap, nodding to the large pool of water, curling the soiled clothes into his arm. “In the water with you. Take these and wash up.”

Zaveriel stares down at the two items for a moment before returning his gaze upwards. “Will you stay?”

He nods. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The young messenger stares into his eyes, as though searching for deception, and when he finds none, he turns and wades out into the pool, until the water curls around his shoulders, and begins lathering up the washcloth in his hand with the lavender soap.

The Healer watches him for a brief moment, before turning to return to the table carved into the wall of the washroom, depositing the soiled clothes into the waste basket, he wasn’t even going to try and salvage them, he would get him new clothing when the timing was appropriate, and for now he’d simply wear what they had for him here, he turns to lean against the edge of the table to watch his little messenger bathe himself.

He watches the young messenger duck under the water to rinse the soap from his curls, smiing to himself in fond amusement when he rises again, shaking the water from his curls like a soaked little pup. Zaveriel splashes water over his face to rinse away the soap that dripped down, to ensure it would not burn his eyes when he opened them, and when he does, he immediately turns to look over his shoulder.

The smile that lights his features at the sight of him still being there, as he waves his fingers lightly in greeting, was almost heartbreaking.

Zaveriel turns completely, wading back out again, to be curled in the thick warm towel draped over the Healer’s arm. He curls it around the younglings shoulders securely, and drapes a second one over his head, cradling his cheeks in his hands. “It’s like you’re a small fledgling again.”

“I’m always going to be your fledgling.”

“You most certainly will be.” He leans over to kiss his nose lightly, and the young messenger scrunches up his face at it, just as he had done when he’d really been a small little fledgling. “Dry yourself and get dressed, my fledgling.”

The young messenger nods, reaching up to rub the towel resting over his head over his dripping curls, then over his face. Raphael steps away for him to dry himself after his bath, holding out his hand for the towels, and the clothes out in the other, to make the trade.

Zaveriel looks up at him when he’s finished, and he holds his arms open for him, in the invitation for an embrace. The young messenger dives forward, ramming into his chest, and wraps his arms around the Archangel’s middle as tightly as he can. “You won’t let them take me, will you?”

“You go nowhere until I release you.” Fingers stroke through his damp curls. “And, that’s not going to happen anytime soon.” Fingers drift down to his shoulders, thumbs dig into his tense muscles, he breaths out a deep sigh and leans in closer. “So, take a nice calming breath, and relax. I took care of your once and I’ll take care of you now.”

“Will you rub my back?”

The Archangel smiles, leaning down to press his lips to his damp curls. “Yes, I will.” Turning them back around to the archway that leads back to the open spacious main room of the Infirmary. “Let’s get you into bed and then I’ll rub your back.”

Zaveriel nods silently, letting himself be guided out of the washroom, through the archway, and he looks around the quiet nightlife atmosphere that was the Infirmary at the present moment. He looks around at the ones that slept soundly, under the Healer’s protection from persecution, whether it be solders, prisoners, guards, prisoners, or another. His eyes widen as he recognizes a few of them, there’s Thaddeus and Theo, curled up together and sleeping, a few guards he’d seen a few days ago, and a familiar face, he tugs on the Healer’s tunic. “Is that Gadreel?”

“Yes.” God’s Healer looks over to the sleeping prisoner, they were making such progress, just the other day he had managed to pull a smile from them both. “He somehow managed to break free from his cell. Carried himself and his brother all the way here. They’ve been here for nearly two weeks now.”

Zaveriel nods, looking around again, smiling at the sight of his friend, Nisroc, sleeping peacefully, curled around his Elect, Erathaol stretched out at the foot of the bed, and his puppy curled up on the older hound’s side, the rest of the Powers around them. “They’re here, too?”

“They come with the same ailment you do.”

He spies Oren walking through the beds along the far right wall, pulling blankets up as he passed, kneeling to listen to the whispers from hoarse throughs, watching his patients sleep soundly under his protective watch. The Virtue must had finished the charts, or given up on them, doing charts was boring so he wouldn’t blame him if he did.

To his left, Zed stood at his work bench, mixing more tonics together, humming under his breath as he moved around his workshop to gather the ingredient he needed.

To their direct right, Ephraim and Constantine were helping the patients under their care drink their sleeping tonics and tucks them in gently when the effects took hold.

They passed Akriel, he reaches over to ruffle his damp curls fondly, sparing him a comforting smile as they passed him by, and the young messenger returns the smile with a small one of his own.

He was led to a bed, made up nicely, warm blankets pulled down for him, pillows nice and fluffed laying ready for him to lay on, a cup of water rests next to a mug of warm chamomile and sugar cane on the bedside table. “It seems your older brothers have noticed your arrival.”

Zaveriel smiles. “They’re the best.”

“They’d be glad to know that.” He chuckles lightly and guides him forward. “Lay down, then. I’ll rub your back.”

The young messenger parts from his side to lay overtop of the warm thick blankets, sinking into the soft mattress with a soft sigh, and looks over at his old guardian with pleading eyes.

“Oh, don’t you give me that look.” Raphael sits on the edge of the bed. “I already said I would.” He leans forward, digging his fingers into the tense muscles under the younger angels shoulders, and Zaveriel groans in comfort. He arches into the touch as he slowly massages his way down to his lower back, digging his fingers into the tense muscles as he comes to them. Zaveriel sighs deeply, curling around, pressing his nose against the side of the Archangel’s outer thigh.

The Healer strokes his fingers through those damp curls. “You’re safe here, my fledgling, no one would dare take you from me.”

“I was so scared, Raph, they stormed the Aerie and we all split up.”

He hums over his charge’s head. “And, you thought to run to me?”

“I knew if you took me in that nobody would be able to take me there.”

“You thought right.” He tugs at his ear lightly. “No one can touch you now.” He hums deeply. “No one would dare to.”

“That’s because you’re so terrifying when you’re angry.”

“I take that as a compliment, I think.”

Zaveriel smiles against his thigh, he feels it, and he returns the gesture even without the younger angel seeing it, scratching lightly at his scalp. “Sleep comfortably, you are my patient now, no one would dare take you from me, not even Michael himself.”

“But what if he tries?”

“Do you think he hasn’t tried to come for his Powers?” He looks up at them, sleeping soundly, curled up together, around their young ones, like a pack of fledglings. “Not even he would dare to take someone from me.” He pauses his scratching and curls his fingers over the side of his head lightly. “If they are safe here, then you most certainly are too, they would have to strike me down before they take any of my patients from me, and I think you’ll find, I’m not easy to strike down.”

Raphael scratches lightly at his neck, and he scrunches up just a bit, pulling away from the Archangel’s thigh. “Straighten up now, lay on those pillows there, you need to sleep.” Fingers curl around his wrist when he lifts the blankets up, tucking them under the youth’s chin, and he curls his fingers around the small hand, raising it up to press his lips to the back of it. “There is no need to be frightened, my little one, you are among your family here, we will protect you.” He rubs his thumb over the smooth skin of the back of the messenger’s hand. “Would you feel better with one of your older brothers staying with you?”

He knew the young messenger would prefer to have him close, but Zaveriel knew that he had many duties to attend to around his Infirmary, there was paperwork he must complete to keep his older brother somewhat complacent, and he knows the young messenger would settle for any one of them.

Zaveriel nods his head mutely. His guardian smiles down at him, and nods to his silent request, squeezing his hand as he looks around.

“Akriel?” The Virtue looks up at the sound of his name, reading through the charts of the patients under his care, and closes the one he had been looking through. “Would you please come stay with your younger brother?”

Zaveriel watches him, hopeful that he would say he would, as he stood from the desk he had been sitting at. Tracking him as he steps around the edge of the desk, crossing over to meet them, and gives a nod of affirmation. “I’ll stay with you, baby brother.”

Raphael smiles in appreciation, he would stay with him himself, but he must attend to his other duties. He passes the young messenger’s hand over to his brother, Akriel lifts it to press his lips to the back, stepping to the side for a moment as the Healer stands from the edge of the bed for him to take his place..

He toes his boots off, and the young messenger scoots over to the side as the Virtue sits next to him, still holding his hand, and leans back against the pillows. “Come here, baby brother, I’ve got you.” He lifts his arm slightly, and the younger angel slides underneath it, coming out on the other side to lay his head on his chest.

Akriel rubs his thumb over the back of his hand, their fingers still curled together, and scratches at the side of his head with his other hand.

Raphael smiles at them both, leaning over to press a kiss to the side of his little messenger’s head. “Try to get some sleep, little one, your brother won’t leave your side.”

The Virtue nods. “I’m here, baby brother, close your eyes for me, I’m here.” Zaveriel stares ahead for a moment, before he complies, closing his eyes lightly, sinking down against his big brother’s chest, they knew how to calm him down peacefully, they knew how to make him sleepy. That’s what big brothers are for.

Akriel pulls him closer, scratching softly at his scalp, and he sighs in comfort. “Go to sleep, baby brother, I’ve got you.”

He tries, he really does, he well and truly does, but he opens his eyes despite his attempts to do as he’s told. “I can’t, Ak, I’m sorry.”

Raphael steps away as Zed joins them, having finished his tonics, and smiles down at the young messenger in greeting. “It’s alright, baby brother.” He takes up the mug of chamomile and sits on the edge of the bed. “We’ll take care of you.”

…

“Oren, what’s wrong with your brother?”

The Virtues’ Captain looks up from the wound he’s binding to meet the gaze of his Archangel in confusion, tilting his head to the side as he contemplated the question, and his eyebrows scrunched together. “What’s wrong with me brother?” He takes a moment to think on it. “Which one?”

“You youngest brother?”

The healer looks confused even still, so the Healer nodded over his shoulder, to what lay to be witnessed behind him. Oren turns to peer over his shoulder, looking around for a moment, until his eyes came to sit on the figure his Archangel has been watching.

Sitting up in his bed, hunched over on himself, shoulders quaking.

“I can finish up here.” The Archangel nods to the distraught youth behind him. “Got tend to your youngest brother.”

Oren nods in appreciation, setting his bandages aside in order to tend to the one who needed him the most, standing from the chair he’d taken occupancy in, wheels it back, and cuts through the moving stream of healers to cross to the end of his youngest brother’s bed.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he rubs the youth’s curls lightly, gently curling his fingers down under his chin, lifting his head slightly. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

The younger angel shakes his head, rubbing the evidence of his tears away as quickly as he can manage when his head is lifted, sniffling deeply in an attempt to calm his breathing.

His older brother’s other hand reaches up to stop him from wiping away his tears, the evidence of his distress, and curls his fingers around his hand gently. “Don’t do that, Zavie, it’s okay to be upset, talk to me, baby brother.”

“Y—You g—guys don’t st—stop any—anymore!”

“We don’t stop?” He strokes his thumb over the back of the messenger’s hand. “Don’t stop to see you?”

The distraught youth nods. “I—I sl—sleep all a—alone n—now!”

“Oh, Zavie.” He presses his lips to the back of his captured little hand before letting it go and reaching forward to curl his fingers around the back of his head. “You hadn’t said anything. We thought you didn’t want us to stay with you anymore.” He pulls the distraught younger angel closer, curling his arms around him comfortingly, and the little messenger curls up against him. “But, if you do, we’ll stay with you, all you had to do was tell us.”

“I—I want you t—t—to!”

“Alright, alright.” Oren strokes his fingers through the curls on the back of his youngest brother’s head. “I’ll stay with you. I’m not going anywhere.” He leans forward. “Let’s lay down, okay?”

Zaveriel whines when his brother pulls away, tears coming back to his eyes, he had no flock and his Archangel abandoned him, everyone always left him, he wanted someone to comfort him. Oren settles in on the side of his bed, having tugged his boots off, pulling him down against his side, curling his arm around his shoulders. He sniffles and nuzzles down against his chest, his fingers clutching at his older brother’s tunic, sighing wheezily as fingers stroked over his cheek.

“You just close your eyes, baby brother, we’ll take good care of you.”

“Don’ go ‘nywhere.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Zaveriel nods, only slightly, a sleepy sort of nod.

…

“What on earth are they doing?”

Oren looks up from the chart he’d been reading through, meeting the eyes of his Archangel first, following his gaze, turning to peer over his shoulder, and a smile slowly comes over his features, and then he laughs softly.

He had promised his youngest brother that they would take care of him.

“It appears Ephraim and Akriel finished their rounds early.”

“I hadn’t considered that, Oren, thank you for informing me, it’s greatly appreciated, truly.”

Both Virtues have taken up a spot at the foot of their little messenger’s bed, one of their arms curled around his ankles, conversating amiably between each other, as Ephraim scribbled over the sole in his grasp with the quill of a feather and Akriel threaded his feather between the toes of the foot in his grasp. Zaveriel was curled up, his shoulders quaking, clutching at the back of their tunics, tugging weakly, as he squealed with laughter.

“You asked.”

“If you give me one more cheeky comment, just one, I will have you in the same position before you can even blink.”

Oren chooses that as his moment to turn and walk away, deciding it’s safe to call from over his shoulder as he makes his departure. “Shouldn’t have asked if you already knew.” His eyes widen when his Archangel turns in his direction and strides forward, and he yelps, turns back around, and darts off, trying to evade his Archangel as he makes chase.

…

Raphael raises an eyebrow as he comes to stand at his apothecary’s side, Zed spares him a kind glance in greeting, and turns back to sifting through his ingredients.

When it appears nothing is going to be said, he decides he needs to ask. “What is he doing?”

The Virtue spars him another glance, reaching down to rub the foot hanging around his waist, and hums in success when he finds what he was looking for. “Sleeping, please don’t wake him.”

“I would never.” He rubs a small circle on the messenger’s back, he mumbles in his sleep, and rubs his cheek against his older brother’s shoulder lightly. “How has he not fallen off yet?”

Zed smiles lightly in amusement, pausing a moment to shake his head, and turns to spare him another glance. “I have absolutely no idea. I’m trying not to move too much lest I inadvertently make him fall.”

His youngest brother had hopped up on his back as a joke at first, watching him bend over the table as he mixed his concoctions, and had managed to find himself a position that was comfortable and stable enough to fall asleep.

“I could take him, if he’s causing too much disturbance to your work.”

“No, no.” The apothecary shakes his head. “He’s a warm weight. I’m just about done anyway.” He sets the filled jars aside. “No use tempting the possibility of waking him up now. I’ll make my rounds and then we’ll head to bed, I promised him I’d sleep with him tonight.”

…

He wakes with a start, all alone, beads of sweat glistening over his forehead, his eyes burn as tears start to gather, and he looks around wildly, it’s late in the night, and he doesn’t see him, so, somewhere in the back of his mind that’s stayed somewhat logical, he deduces that he must have turned in for the night.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” A healer’s soft voice interrupts his raving thoughts and he turns to look up at them, she smiles down at him kindly, withdrawing her hand as she reaches out when he flinches at the motion. “What’s wrong, what can I do to help?”

He licks his lips. “Papa, want papa!”

She tilts her head in confusion. “You want who?”

“Papa! I wan’ papa! Where’s papa! Need papa!”

She nods lightly. “Who is—”

“I’ll take care of him, Rahmiel, go ahead and return to your duties.” The young healer looks up at the voice coming up behind her, Lamechiel smiles down at her, patting her back lightly. “I got him, you go on, I’ll take care of it.”

Rahmiel nods lightly. “Okay, Lam.” She smiles down at their patient and makes her leave.

The floor elder takes her place, smiling down at the little messenger sniffling in his bed, staring up at him with wide watery eyes. “Did you have a bad dream, Zavie?” He nods lightly. “Do you want your papa?” He nods again. “Okay, come on, I’ll take you to him.” He takes the elder’s hand when he holds it out to him, carefully climbing out of bed, following at his side as he guides him down the aisle to the back. They take the stairs that lead to the loft one by one, Lamechiel isn’t moving too fast, he’s taking it nice and slow for him, and the Lounge is empty when they reach the top. They cross through silently, the Virtues’ doors are closed, their sleeping, there’s no sound coming from behind the doors as they pass them by. Lamechiel leads him down to the last room on the right, it had been a spare room, until the Archangel had moved in, there’s a small light on within the cracked door, and the soft sound of shuffling paper.

The elder snorts softly, pushing the door open. “You’ve been up since five yesterday morning, you should be sleeping.”

“Don’t think for even a moment that you have the authority to me, Lamechiel.”

Zaveriel’s eyes widen, that’s papa, he wants papa, papa would protect him. Lamechiel yelps when he’s shoved slightly, the little messenger at his side darting around him and into the room, and his Archangel yelps, grunting softly when the messenger throws himself at him.

Raphael looks down at him, his little messenger laying over the charts resting in his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around his middle. “Zaves?” He rubs a hand down the back of his head. “What’s the matter, little one?”

The elder in the door way hums, and he looks up to him for answers, scratching at the back of the small Principality’s head. “Lam?”

Lamechiel nods to the young messenger. “He said he had a bad dream and started asking for you.”

“Aww, little bumblebee, did you have a bad dream?” Zaveriel nods mutely, still hugging his arms around his middle, his face pressing into his stomach. “Well, that’s no good, bad dreams are a serious sort of business.” The Healer nods up at his floor elder. “Thank you, Lam, I’ll take him off your hands.”

“I thought you would.” The healer smiles at them. “Have a good night.”

“You too, thank you.” The door clicks softly as the healer pulls it closed, and he turns his attention down to his little messenger, scratching at the back of his head. “What happened in this bad dream, little bumblebee, tell me what happened.”

“They came, papa, they came, and they hurt you and they took me, and—and I went there, and I never—I never came back out and I—I never saw you again!”

“Oh, my little one.” The Archangel pets the boy’s curls back. “I’m not so easy to take down, I wouldn’t be one of Heaven’s most dangerous weapons if I was, and no one would dare to think of taking you from me, I would strike them down before the managed to lay a finger on you.”

Zaveriel sniffles softly. “You promise, papa?”

“I would never lie to you.” He reaches under the young messenger for the charts he’s lying on and leans over to set them on the bedside table, reaching up to dim the lamp. “Let’s get some sleep, little one, you’ll sleep up here with me, so I may keep the bad dreams away.”

“I love you, papa.”

“I love you too, my little bumblebee.”

Chapter Text

He’s the only one that comes in that day, not bruised, not broken, not bloody. He’s whole. He’s unharmed. He’s searching for someone. Eyes skimming over the faces of all the patients. He’s looking for a face, a familiar face, a face he knows by heart, and when he sees it, he darts around the Archangel, not having answered any of his questions, focused solely on the face he’s set his sights on.

“Theo!” The healers turn to watch him dart forward, the young Co-Warden sitting up at the call of his name, looking around to see who it was. “Theo, over here!”

He turns at the voice. “Ion?” He recognizes the one running his way, and he smiles, jumping up from his side of their conjoined beds, running forward to meet him. “Ion!”

The guard laughs, catching the small Warden up around the waist, spinning him around excitedly. Theo laughs brightly, curling his arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Ion, I missed you, why’d it take you so long!”

“I’m sorry, baby brother, I was looking for you and didn’t think to come look here.” He sets the younger angel back on his feet, curling his hands around his cheeks, smiling down at him, pressing their foreheads together. “I missed you, baby brother.”

Theo smiles up at him. “I missed you too, big brother.”

Ion leans in, brushing their noses together, chuckling when the younger angel giggles softly. “Are they treating you well?”

“They’re so nice, Ion! Raph tells me he loves me every day and Thaddy reads to me and lets me sleep with him and Saba lets me play with Sora, everyone’s so nice to me!” The young Co-Warden takes a deep breath. “He didn’t know, Ion, he didn’t know. He said he wouldn’t have let it happen anymore if he’d known.”

The guard stiffens, noticeably stiffens, and others look over when a certain amount of tension fills the room, even the Healer turns to look when he feels it, as he closes the doors for the night. “He didn’t know?” Ion stares at him, as though looking for any sign of deceit, and when he finds none, he growls, pulling away from the Co-Warden. “Where is he?”

Theo looks confused at his anger. “Who?”

“Saba, Theo, where’s Saba?” He looks around, following his finger, when the younger angel points him out for him. “There, by Nisroc.” He squeezes his brother’s shoulder lightly as he turns, his eyes tracking the older guard, the one who knew, the one who said he’d tell Thaddy about what was happening, the one who ruined his baby brother’s life, the one who was responsible for him being so broken. “Thanks, baby brother, I’ll be right back.”

“Ion?”

He squeezes his shoulder again and turns away from him, stalking through the beds, looking something akin to a predator stalking it’s prey, fists curled tightly. Ion clears the row of beds, stalking down the aisle, the tension in the air was consuming, the Powers stood as he approached, Sabaoth stood, he could hear others drawing closer, to try and diffuse the tension, or keep them apart, he doesn’t care. “It’s all your fault.” He grinds out as he draws closer. “What happened to Thaddeus is your fault.” He curls his fists tighter. “What happened to Theo is your fault.” Sabaoth watches him approach cautiously. “You said you’d tell him, remember, I told you about what was happening, I told you, and you said you’d tell him.” Sabaoth’s eyes narrow as he wracks his mind for what he was talking about, and then his eyes widen, as he remembers, and he shoots a look over to the Warden and Co-Warden, both standing at the edge of the aisle across from him, watching the scene unfold across from them. “My baby brother is broken because you forgot!”

The older guard turns back to the young, holding his hands up placatingly. “Ion, it was a mistake, I’m so sor—” He’s cut off midsentence as a fist plows into his face, hard, there’s a resounding crack, and the older guard stumbles backwards, hitting the edge of his bed, and tumbles over the side.

Ion glares at him heatedly, thrusting a finger down at him harshly. “No. The mistake was ever trusting you in the first place.” He throws his hand out towards the two Wardens. “Theo is broken, and Thaddeus was brainwashed because you forgot! Everything in that place, all of the horror, all of the bloodshed, all of the abuse and torture, it’s all your fault!” He thrusts his finger back down at him. “Theo’s life is ruined because of you! You’re the reason someone is broken! I hope it haunts you, knowing that you’re the reason Thaddeus was brainwashed, that you’re the reason Theo is broken, that you’re the reason that so many people begged for death. I hope their screams as they’re brutally tortured echoes in your head, I hope it’s all you hear late at night as your trying to fall asleep, I hope it haunts your dreams, I hope it haunts you.”

Ion spits at him in disgust and turns, shoving his way through the others that have gathered around them, walking through the rows of beds, enveloping his baby brother back into his embrace. Theo holds onto him for a long moment, not saying a word, pressing his head into his chest, before he finds his voice, it’s small, smaller then anyone here has ever heard it. “Ion….He knew…..He knew and said he’d tell…….He knew…..He knew and forgot to tell?” Ion only holds him closer, he doesn’t answer him, not verbally anyway, but the gesture is all he needs as an answer. Someone had known, Ion had told someone, someone who said they’d tell, someone who’d said they’d tell Thaddy, and they didn’t. They…..They forgot. He was being hurt and the one who said they’d help forgot. The guard holds him tighter when the younger angel turns to press his face into his chest, and his chest heaves as he breathes out a sob, Ion ignores the sympathetic looks others send their way, curling around his baby brother, holding him close as he breaks down. It’s like all the progress they’ve made concerning the young Co-Warden has been shattered in one foul swoop, as he sobs into the guards chest, the guard curled around him as much as he can be, knowing that someone had known about his suffering and forgot to tell the one person who could put an end to it.

Some of the healers turn to glare at the older guard, as Oren helps him to his feet, Thaddeus looks so disappointed in him, shaking his head when their eyes meet, turning to his sobbing young Co-Warden and rubs his back soothingly. The Healer disperses the glaring healers as he approaches, waving a hand at them, ordering them to return to their duties, as he comes to stand at their side, he spares Ion a single disapproving glare, to which a heated glare is returned in turn, and he presses a hand between the Co-Warden’s quaking shoulders. He leans over, whispering something to the Warden, and Thaddeus nods sharply, turning to whisper in the guards ear, Ion nods, securing his grip around the broken youth, and Raphael curls his hand around the back of the broken Co-Warden’s head.

Theo sags, his sobs cutting off, falling limply against the guard curled around him, and Ion sweeps him up, muttering his appreciation as he turns away from them, to set his baby brother down on his side of the conjoined beds.

The Archangel pulls the Warden around slightly, speaking to him in hushed tones, and Thaddeus nods intermittently, responding in kind, in the same hushed tones, before nodding firmly, and turning to return to their side. Raphael follows after him, stepping around to the empty bed on their other side, and leans over to push it against their conjoined beds.

“Ion,” the guard looks up at the sound of his Warden’s voice. “Put him in the middle.” He nods, lifting his baby brother again, and leans over to set him down in the middle of their conjoined beds, as they both slide in at his sides, the guard turns the small Co-Warden around, away from the Warden, tucking him into his chest, wrapping his arms around him, Thaddeus gives him a sad look at him pulling his Co-Warden away from him, but he goes ignored by the guard, his baby brother was broken, and it was all their fault. The older angel simply settles on being able to press in close behind the youngest of their trio, curling arm around his waist, squishing him slightly between them, offering comfort by presence, because whispering to him that everything was okay was a moot point, because it wasn’t, nothing about this situation was okay.

Nothing.

…

Theo regresses after that knowledge comes to light, back to how he was when he’d first come to them, worse then he was when he first came to them, shattered at the knowledge that someone had known, and they hadn’t done anything about it, that no one cared enough to help him when he needed them most, save for Ion, of course, Ion had cared enough to try, but he was the only one.

He lays in their conjoined beds, tucked up against the only guard who had helped him, stood by him, protected him, comforted him, took care of him when he was unable to take care of himself, and he’d stare, stare at the bed next to them, blinking every now and then, sometimes he’d cry, tears dripping down his face, silent sobs wracking him, until he cried himself to sleep. Most of the time he slept, he’d just given up, only one person had cared enough to try and help him, if no one else cared, why should he?

The picture of a broken man, even worse though, the picture of a shattered man.

Ion held him, close and secure, wiping away his tears silently as he shed them, curling around him when he’d sob silently, glaring at anyone who got too close, everyone, including the Healer.

The healers would send him sympathetic saddened glances as they passed by their beds, hoping they could help him, but never daring get close enough, lest the guard that held him close lash out at them, he’d thrown a cup at one of them who had tried, it shattered against their face, glass cutting the skin, blood dripped slowly down their face, and he snarled at them, telling them to go away. Thaddeus was distressed, wanting to help his young Co-Warden, but never able to get close enough, the guard hissing and glaring at him when he tried to reach out, until he withdrew from them, and Ion would turn his attention back down to his broken baby brother.

Theo stops drinking.

No matter how much they try to coerce him into taking at least a few sips, he just lays there, on his guards chest, staring passed them, sometimes tears drip down his face, but he gives no acknowledgement to their presence, it’s like he doesn’t know they’re even there, he’s completely pulled away, hiding himself in his mind, deciding that the outside world is too painful to be in, that he’s grown tired of always being hurt by others.

Raphael sighs sadly as he inserts an IV line into his arm, because he needed to stay hydrated, no matter how much the young Co-Warden seemed to want to, he wouldn’t allow him to simply wither away. He’s the only one Ion allows to touch the younger angel, because he cares, and it’s clear that he cares, he listens as the Archangel softly tells his brother how much he’s loved while petting his curls back, sometimes he comes to sit with them, telling Theo about the day, the happenings around the Infirmary, funny stories, or reading to him from a book he’d grabbed from the bookshelf in his office, encouraging him to follow his voice, to come back to them, that he’s so loved and everyone is so worried about him. He tells him about all the little gifts and knickknacks his healers are leaving for him, flowers, stuffed animals, little toys, he tells him about Zander coloring him picture after picture, leaving them on his bedside table, how Sora colors him pictures and leaves him some of his toys, in case he wants to play when he feels better, how they left him their stuffed octopus and dolphin, no matter how much they loved their stuffed animals, because they always make them feel better, and they hope they’ll help him feel better too.

He tells Ion to talk to him, about anything and everything, to try and draw him back out again, that it’ll be difficult and lengthy, but he will come back to them when he was ready.

Theo stops eating.

No matter how much they try to encourage him, to entice him, try anything to get him to eat even a few bites, they never succeed, not even Ion can get him to, he just stares, sleeps, and cries, having retreated back into the farthest parts of his mind. Closed himself in a proverbial mental fortress as his line of defense.

Ion glares at Sabaoth the entire time, the older guard sitting on the edge of his bed, having seen for only a moment and buries his face in his hands, as Raphael inserts a feeding tube through the Co-Warden’s nostril, leading it down into his stomach, to give him the nutrients he needs so he doesn’t simply wither away from starvation and malnutrition.

It’s two weeks after Ion joins them that young younger angel seems to make his way back to them, it starts with the curling of his fingers, curling slightly into the older angel’s tunic, and Ion looks down immediately when he feels the movement. “Theo….Baby brother, are you with me?” He’s too focused on the movement, as the fingers curl tighter, to hiss at Thaddeus when he sits up at his inquiry, scooting closer to see for himself.

Theo inhales deeply, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand weakly. “Ion….I’m hungry…..”

Both Warden and guard smile at the sound of his voice, weak and raspy from disuse, and Ion strokes a finger down the bridge of his baby brother’s nose. “Do you want to try and eat something?”

He nods lightly, rubbing at his nose again, and Thaddeus turns, to track down the Archangel. Raphael jogs over quickly, dropping what he’d been doing when the Warden had come to him, telling him that Theo was talking, he was back, and he was hungry. He slides into the chair at his bedside, smiling at him softly, stroking his knuckles over his cheek gently. “Welcome back, little one, we’ve missed you terribly.” Theo smiles up at him slightly. “Thaddy says you told them you were hungry, do you want to try and eat something?”

The young Co-Warden nods slightly, licking his lips lightly. “Hungry…”

“Alright, let’s fill that belly with something tasty, what would you like, we’ll start with soft foods. Pudding, eggs, mashed potatoes, jello, things like that, what sounds appetizing?”

He rubs at his nose lightly, pondering on what he wants, closing his eyes for a moment. “Can I have pudding?”

The Archangel nods. “Of course, chocolate or vanilla, we’ve got many flavors, what’s your favorite?”

Theo licks his lips again, this time at the thought of pudding, he liked pudding, it was his favorite. “Banana….”

“Alright, we’ve got it,” he strokes a finger over his nose. “I’ll go get you a bowl of banana pudding, are you thirsty?”

Theo nods slightly. “Thirsty..”

Raphael nods, smiling down at him. “Alright, I’ll go get you some banana pudding and a glass of water, I’ll be right back.”

The younger angel nods lightly, watching the Healer stand from his chair, disappearing out of the corner of his eye, and he turns his head slightly, looking up to meet his guards eyes. “Ion….Where’s Thaddy?”

“I’m right here, little brother.” A warm hand rubs at his side. “I’m right here. I’ve been here the whole time. I’m right here.”

After a week of eating on his own, the Healer gently pulls the feeding tube out, apologizing for the discomfort when the younger angel whines softly at the feeling, squeezing the guard and Warden’s hands, and gets to have a bowl of his favorite pudding as a treat afterwards.

After two weeks of drinking on his own, the Healer removes the IV line from his arm, and Ion moves Theo to lay between him and the Warden, when he asks him to, because he wants to be with Thaddy too, and Thaddeus takes his hand immediately, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, telling him how much he loves him and how happy he is that he’s back and how much they missed him.

They make him giggle softly, squirming between them, as they poke him in the sides playfully.

…

Raphael smiles lightly at the Co-Warden’s squealing laughter, he needs it, that’s for damn sure, looking up for a moment to watch the two older angels torment the young. Thaddeus threads his feather between the toes of his left foot, scribbles over his sole with the quill, and returns to threading the soft part between his toes. Ion twirls the tip of his feather in the young Co-Warden’s belly button, catching his hands when he tries to reach down to bat at his feather.

He turns his attention over to the older guard, Sabaoth is miserable, the guilt for his mistake eating at him deeply, he’s near inconsolable, though Nisroc tries. Thaddeus’s disappointment and Ion’s anger is palpable when the guard tries to draw near to attempt to make amends for his disastrous mistake, and it pushes him back, he bows his head as he turns away, back to his bed, where he curls up under his blankets and cries softly into his arm.

Nisroc comes to him when he fears Saba might not recover, as he falls into a sort of depressive state, and he agrees softly with his concerns, and escorts him to the three he’d been trying to see for the better part of a week and a half. Ion glares at him, Theo looks away, and Thaddeus gives him such a disappointed glance that it would make anyone weak at the knee.

He hates stepping in for something that they should take care of themselves, but he steps in this time, telling them to allow him to say his piece, and they begrudgingly agree, allowing Sabaoth to draw closer. Raphael shakes his head sadly as the older guard falls to his knees, breathing out a soft sob as he tries to apologize, he doesn’t know how to apologize for the mistake he’s made, but he apologizes anyway, just repeating himself over and over, it’s like he’s a fledgling who has just been punished and is now trying to make amends by apologizing, blubbering about how sorry he is, begging them to forgive him.

Ion glares at him but says nothing, perhaps that’s to be expected, he says nothing on the matter.

Theo sniffles softly, looking down at his lap, curling his guard’s hand into his chest, but says he accepts his apology.

Thaddeus stares down at him mutely for a long moment, before telling him just how disappointed he is, and it makes him cry harder, bending over on himself, burying his face in his hands at the Warden’s soft but sharp words.

Sabaoth sobs harshly, sitting on his knees, shaking, his shoulders quaking with every sob he heaves.

The Warden whispers to his young Co-Warden, and Theo nods lightly, to whatever it was that was said. Thaddeus rises, turning in bed, pushing himself to his feet, and crosses around to the foot of the bed, lowering himself to his knees in front of his oldest guard, carefully pulling his hands away from his face, curls his hands around his tear soaked cheeks, and tells him he forgives him but that he doesn’t know if he can trust him just as much as he had before, which makes the guard heave another sob, and the Warden pulls him in. Into his arms, into his chest, and curls around him, holding him close, as the guard sobs into his chest, reaching up to curl his fingers in the front of his tunic.

Thaddeus sits there with him for a long few minutes, hugging him, holding him close, letting him sob himself hoarse, before gently urging him to calm down before he makes himself sick.

Sabaoth tries, he really does, he chokes on his sobs, but he can’t get them to stop, his chest just keeps heaving with the force of his sobs.

Raphael passes the Warden a bucket, rather quick on the draw, when the guard gags, finally making himself sick from the force of his sobbing, and Thaddeus holds it under him as he regurgitates the contents of his stomach into the bucket under him.

The Healer steps away for a moment to gather them some things to help the older guard feel better after making himself sick, and returns with a tray of supplies, setting it on the bedside table on the Warden’s side, and takes the bucket once the guard’s heaving finally comes to a stop, passing it to a passing healer to dispose of. He turns, helping lift the guard to his feet, helping him over to the beds, nodding for Thaddeus to get himself into a comfortable position, before guiding the young guard down. Thaddeus helps guide him down between his legs, resting back against his chest.

Sabaoth sniffles miserably, sniffling and wheezing through a stuffy nose, and he sits on the edge of the bed to care for him. Curling a cool cloth over his forehead, for the headache, and to cool him down. He has him drink a small cup of cranberry juice, to rid himself of the taste of vomit, then has him take a few sips of ginger ale to help settle the stomach, and has him take a few sips of coconut water to replenish the electrolytes he’d lost in his being sick, and finally, holds out a mug of warm tea and honey, more so for the Warden to take hold of, instructing him to take small sips every minute or so, small sips only, lest he upset his stomach again, the tea and honey being for the sore throat he’s sure to have now, and telling them to switch between the tea, the ginger ale, and the coconut water, to continue to help sooth his stomach and replenish his electrolytes.

When, and only when, he finishes his drinks, is he allowed to fall asleep.

“I’ll take care of him, Raph, I got this.” Thaddeus holds the mug of tea up for the guard to take a sip. “Thanks for your help.”

Raphael smiles at them, reaching out to rub Sabaoth’s cheek lightly, brushing his thumb over his chin. “Of course, it’s what I’m here for, call me if you need anything.”

Chapter Text

He collects Thaddeus and the Prison guards in his office, for his next step in this game him and his brother had decided to play, it was Michael’s game, but if he was forced to play, then he’d play, and take in as many as he could to save them from his brother’s unjust wrath.

The Archangel addresses them as one. “I want to take in the prisoners.”

They murmur amongst each other, the guards do, Thaddeus stares at him in surprise, clearly not having expected that to come out of his mouth. Raphael nods firmly, looking over to him when Osmadiel raises his hand, surprising most, that he was there, in the first place, and he was contributing to the conversation. “How are we supposed to get in and take prisoners and come back without the threat of becoming prisoners ourselves.”

He nods firmly, crossing his arms loosely. “I thought of that, of course, I’m not one to do things half-assed. No one can touch you if you are mine, and, yes, I know Michael is taking my healers, I would go for them, if I didn’t think Michael would take my absence as his opportunity to storm my Infirmary and take you all as his prisoners, so, unfortunately, I can’t simply go and retrieve them.” He nods again, more so to himself, then to them. “So, I have nothing left to ask, but one simple question, I can offer you my protection, as I do my Virtues, as I should have my healers that don’t live within my Infirmary, which I will rectify once I get them back, and I will get them back, sooner rather then later.” He looks between them all, giving the impression that he won’t force them to do anything they don’t want to do, but also giving the impression that unless the accept his offer, his hands are tied, and Michael can take them at any time if they step foot outside his Infirmary. “I can offer you my protection whilst outside of these walls if you join my flock.”

The guards stare at him, Thaddeus stares at him, at the offer, at the admission, and then guards whisper amongst themselves, unsure on whether to accept his offer, they were proud to be in Michael’s flock, they were proud, but seeing their Commander behave in the manner he was wasn’t something they were proud of, taking innocents to be kept under Sampson’s questionable mercy was shameful, it was disgraceful, against everything his flock was supposed to stand for, he was a contradiction now, going against his own principle, and forcing his flock to against theirs.

To protect those who can’t protect themselves.

Osmadiel and Mendrion raise their hands. “We’ll join your flock.” The others to stare at them, and they stare right back. Rogziel, standing to his best friend, nods his hand. “I will too.” The others exchange looks, before calling out, one by one, accepting his offer, willingly transferring from the Warrior’s flock to the Healers.

Raphael stood by his morals, stood by what his flock was supposed to stand for, he didn’t discriminate, he didn’t judge you for what you had been forced to do, he treated everyone who came to him with the same dignity, respect, and kindness that he treated his own flock with. He was kind and forgiving, offering comfort when comfort was needed, offering protection when protection was needed, offering aide when aide was needed, offering anything he could offer when it was needed, and stood up for those he took into his care, into his charge, he let no one disrespect them, no one threaten to harm them, and no one to take them from him until he was ready to let you go.

So, it comes by no surprise, that Michael’s guards, the Prison guards, the toughest of the toughest, accepted his offer of joining his flock. Thaddeus looks around at his guards, being the only one who hasn’t said anything, and looks back to the Archangel standing before them, nodding firmly. “I’ll join your flock.”

“Perfect.” The Archangel nods, leaning over to open the bottom drawer on his desk, pulling out a wooden box, and pushes the drawer closed, setting the box on the side of his desk, and pulls the top open. “Take a talisman. A piece of my grace is infused in the rune engraved on it. It responds to your emotions, as any grace from a healer would, it will defend you when it senses your unease or fear, so, I recommend, though you all are thought to be the toughest of the toughest guards, that if you feel uneasy or frightened, to not swallow that feeling and push it away, let it take hold, not completely, just enough to affect your emotional state, let your heartrate pick up just a bit, take a deep breath, and my grace within the talisman will come to your defense.” He gestures to the bow, and they all slowly reach in to take one, reaching around to clasp it around their necks. “Might I recommend that you wear it for others to see, everyone knows my flocks personal rune, usually they’ll leave you be if they see it, usually.” He looks between them all. “All of you going in at the same time would appear suspicious, so I would only pick two, maybe three, of you to go this time. You will switch out amongst yourselves with every trip, made daily, so that no one grows suspicious of seeing your faces too often.” Raphael turns to address the Warden, waiting for him to clasp his own talisman, before speaking. “Thaddeus, do you still have your skeleton key?”

The Warden nods, reaching into the collar of his tunic, pulling at a chain, lifting an old fashioned key from underneath, pulling the chain over his head. “This will open any cell in my Prison, it’s mine, it will always be mine, Sampson can fuck off.” He turns to the group of guards beside him. “Who’s going first?”

Surprisingly, Osmadiel raises his hand, stepping forward through the crowd, he was wide awake, rearing to go, he hated Sampson as much as the next guy, if they could get the prisoners out from under his cruelty, he’d play his part willingly, he’d make as many trips as they needed him to. Mendrion and Rogziel raise their hands too, stepping forward after him, and the Warden and Archangel nod at them, Thaddeus passes his skeleton key to the oldest guard in their trio, Osmadiel tucks in his pocket. “I loathe to pick favorites, and I’m not, not really, but go for the minors first, they’re going to get the brunt of it, because they’re more impressionable.” He rubs his face thoughtfully, a tad distressed, his eyes are sad when he looks back up at them. “Knowing Sampson, he’d want to instill terror in them, to keep them malleable, look for them in Solitary. Where it used to be.”

Osmadiel growls lowly, at the thought of little ones being trapped in that all consuming darkness, it had been enough to drive grown angels crazy being surrounded by nothing but darkness, that’s why they’d been moved, and the thought that little ones were stuck down there was enough to make anyone’s blood boil.

He grinds out his acknowledgement. “Understood.”

Raphael nods at their plan, turning back to the Warden, and Thaddeus gives him his complete attention once more. “I trust they’ll be rather clingy when they get here, especially to you, we’ll have beds made up around yours for them.”

The Warden nods firmly. “That would be best.”

…

Carefully, the creep down the empty hall, Sampson was either too cocky, or Raphael had collected more guards then he assumed he did, or a bit of both, but the hall was empty. The prisoners were silent, for the most part, some groaned in pain, some sobbed softly into their hands, dirty and beaten and bleeding, they whispered to them as they passed, promising that they’d be saved, that they knew it was a lot to ask for, but to hold on just a bit longer, just a bit longer.

They turn the corner, after Osmadiel peers around it to see if anyone was stationed in the hall, and waves them forward as he moves, to the thick metal door just a few paces away, carefully, near silently, he unlocks the door, reaching for the torch nearest him, gesturing for the two younger guards to grab one for themselves, and steps into the pitch black, stepping aside to allow Mendrion and Rogziel to enter passed him, and he leans over to pull the door closed, in case someone came down the hall, they probably wouldn’t notice the missing torches, but they’d definitely notice the open door.

Sampson does have guards posted down in the hole, and they quickly rush forward to incapacitate them, Osmadiel swings his torch around, bashing it into the guard that rushes him, sending him careening into the thick metal door next to him, crashing face first, hard, he falls to the floor unconscious.

The last remaining guard raises his hands defensively. “Get him out.” The three of them blink in surprise at the voice, they know that voice, it made sense that he was down here, he was never far from his boy. They step forward, the light from their torches beating back the consuming shadows, and Qaspiel blinks at them, squinting, his own torch had been extinguished when he’d bashed it into the head of the guard that had been next to him, and he points at the door he stands before. “Get him out.”

Osmadiel nods. “Anyone else here have a key?”

Qaspiel nods, gesturing to two other guards, and the oldest guard in their midst waves at the two behind him. “Get their keys and start unlocking the doors.” He calls out to the hole in general. “We’re going to get you out, Raphael is waiting for you with his healer, but you have to be as quiet as you can, alright, as silent as church mice.” He gets no response, and he suspects it’s because they’re taking his order to heart and won’t so much as make a peep if it means he’ll get them out of the all consuming darkness.

Qaspiel tugs him over, he yelps slightly at the force of it, the young puppy guard was stronger then he let on. “Let him out, Os, let him out.”

He nods lightly, batting the younger guard’s hand away, and steps up to the door, holding his torch up, he meets the green eyes of the prisoner inside. “Thaddy’s waiting for you, Zoph, he’s waiting for you. Imma get you out.” The youngling nods mutely, and he slides the key in the lock, twisting it, the tumblers inside thunk as the lock unlatches, and pulls the door open once it’s unlocked. The youth inside darts out, jumping at his puppy guard, clutching him tightly, Qaspiel holds him close, whispering in his ear, as Osmadiel moves on to the next door.

They gather around them, like moths attracted to the flames, and he recognizes a few faces, Thaddeus is going to be devastated, heartbroken, infuriated, and overjoyed all at the same time, as Barbados, Jahoel, and Rizoel stare up at him, he knows the others are there too, he sees Rikbiel, Israfil, and Zazriel, clutching at Rikbiel’s hand tightly, looking the very definition of terrified. “Okay, we’re going to head up, you all stay close together, stay close to us, and don’t make a peep, understand?” The younglings nod mutely, and he turns to address Mendrion and Rogziel. “You guys bring up the tail, I don’t know their condition, and someone needs to catch anyone who falls behind.” They nod, stepping aside, and Osmadiel leads them down the small hallway, the younglings following him like terrified ducklings, trying to be as silent as possible, they take the stairs slowly, Osmadiel holds his hand up when they reach the top, leaning forward to push the thick metal door open just a centimeter, listening for any noise outside the door, the sound of someone walking down the hall, anything, and when he hears nothing, he pushes the door open, waving for them to follow after him, and they do, like the silent terrified ducklings they are. They squint in the brightness of the torches in the hall, but follow, despite the slight set back, and Osmadiel thanks Father, wherever He may be, that Temeluch and Aeshma are still the guards posted at the door, they let them out with a firm nod, expecting to see others returning for more of their prisoners.

The night sky above them in filled with stars, and some of them look up at them as they walk under them, wanting to see them, take them in, commit them to memory, in case they were sent back to their dark dungeon. Qaspiel changes forms midstep, he’s still a young hound, but he’s grown since they’d last seen him, he stands at Zophiel’s waist now, and the youngling curls the fingers of his left hand into the fur on the back of his neck, holding on tightly.

Raphael and a number of his healers are waiting for them just at the top of the stairs, his eyes widen slightly, he hadn’t expected there to be so many of them, so many little ones, as pale as snow, scruffy and worn, dirty little things, barefoot, clothed in what could possibly be rags sewn together, walking slowly up the stairs to his Infirmary. He raises an eyebrow at the hound walking at the side of the one, Osmadiel follows his gaze, nods slightly. “Qaspiel, he’s Zoph’s puppy guard.”

Recognition lights his green eyes at the names.

“Come, little ones, lets get you taken care of.” He turns, gesturing for them to follow, and they do, just as silent as they were told to be. “Come.”

They shown to their beds, healers waiting there to tend to them, they notice Thaddy immediately, standing at the end of what was probably his own bed, arms crossed, watching them make their way down slowly.

Zazriel’s the one to break the silence, letting go of Rikbiel’s hand, darting through the group of them, around the Healer. “Papa! Papa!” Thaddeus opens his arms, catching the boy as he rams into him, taking a slight step back from the impact, curling around him as he sobs brokenly into his stomach. Other’s follow after him, six other boys and two hounds, Raphael watches them dart forward, curling around the Warden when the reach him, forcing him back another step, the two hounds waiting for them patiently. “They’re his.” He turns to look at the guard next to him, and Osmadiel spares him a glance, nodding at the boy clutching at the Warden as best as they can. “They’re his boys.” He nods in understanding, watching them for a moment, before turning his attention to the rest of them, showing the rest of the little ones behind him to their beds.

Large tubs of warm water and bubbles awaiting them, as soon as he heard Thaddeus say they’d be in Solitary, where it used to be, he knew they’d need a good scrubbing, so they’d prepared for their arrival. His healers would be gently, they’d take great care, they’d get them scrubbed clean, dressed into clean warm clothes, tucked into bed, and he’d see to each and every one of them for any injury or wound, then they’d have supper, a nice filling meal, Father knows Sampson wasn’t going to feed them correctly every day.

Six of the boys curled around Thaddeus have let go, under his soft command to go get themselves taken care of, all but one, he’s still curled around the older angel, sobbing into his shoulder, having been pulled up into his arms, the puppy waiting patiently at his side, sitting up as best as it can to lick at his toes soothingly.

Raphael frowns in concern, approaching them, Thaddeus looks up at him, mouthing something, announce yourself, and he obliges. “What’s the matter, little one?” The puppy barks at him when he reaches a hand out to touch the youngling’s back, and he freezes, Thaddeus shakes his head firmly, mouthing at him again, not without his permission, okay, noted, do not touch this one without him saying it was alright to touch him.

Thaddeus nods to the healer waiting for the young prisoner, watching them with great concern, not understanding what was wrong. “Do you have a female who can tend to him?” He raises an eyebrow at the inquiry, Thaddeus mouths again. I’ll tell you later. It needs to be a female. Raphael nods firmly, looking around them, catching another’s eye, Hadiel, one of his elders, and she nods, setting her charts down, making her way to his side, he turns to the healer watching them. “Thank you, Diniel, will you take over Hadiel’s duties for now?”

The young healer nods mutely, stepping around him, as Hadiel meets him. “Yea, Raph?”

He nods to the boy. “Will you tend to him, don’t touch him unless he says it’s okay to.”

She nods lightly, a sense of understanding washing over her, as it had him, at the strange request, and the rules he’d been given. There was only a few reasons why one had to announce themselves, touch him with only his permission, and the one tending to him had to be female, and he loathe to dwell on the reason his mind automatically went to.

Hadiel steps around behind the Warden’s shoulder, waving at the youngling hiding in his shoulder, and he sniffles softly as he stares down at her with red puffy eyes, his puppy guard sitting next to her, staring, ready to stop her if she made any movements his boy was no comfortable with. “Hi, I’m Hadiel, what’s your name?”

The boy sniffles softly. “K—Kafziel.”

She smiles up at him. “Nice to meet you, Kafziel, I’m here to help you, what can I do to help?”

Kafziel sniffles again, sitting up slightly to wipe a hand under his nose, before laying back down again, peeking down at her from over Thaddy’s shoulder. “I—I want to get clean. I f—feel really y—yucky.”

The healer crinkles her nose up. “I’d feel yucky too if I was covered in all that guck.” She smiles up at him again. “Do you want to take a bath?”

The little prisoner sniffles again, nodding slightly. “C—Can Shamsiel come too?”

Hadiel tilts her head. “Who’s Shamsiel?” She looks down at the large puppy when he points down at it. “That’s Shamsiel?” He giggles softly when she squats and holds her hand out to the puppy. “Nice to make your acquaintance, Shamsiel.” The puppy barks, setting it’s paw in her hand, and she shakes it gently, before letting it go, standing once more, and turning back to her patient. “Of course, he can come,” she smiles up at him. “Does he need a bath too?”

He giggles again when his puppy guard looks up at him. “Y—Yea.”

“Great, how about you guys take a bath together?”

Kafziel sits up slightly. “W—We can?”

Hadiel nods lightly. “I don’t see why not, if you both need to take a bath, the tubs big enough for the both of you, we’ll have to get another towel, but that’s easy-peesy, I can wash you while you wash him.” He stiffens up, both healers take immediate notice, and Hadiel is quick to add on. “Only where you want me to, I can wash your shoulders and hair while you’re washing Shamsiel, and you can wash everywhere else, is that okay?”

The prisoner sniffles again and nods. “That’s okay.”

“Okay, come on, lets get you guys in while the water is still hot.” Hadiel waves him on as she walks around, away, Shamsiel looks up at him and barks, and he giggles again. “If I have to get a bath then you do too, Shamsi.”

Thaddeus turns his head slightly, pressing a kiss under his ear. “Do you want me to set you down?”

Kafziel nods lightly. “I want to be set down.”

“Okay, little guy.” The Warden carefully lowers him to his feet, and he turns, immediately looking up at the Healer standing there. “Kaf, this is—”

“Hi, Raph.”

Raphael smiles down at him, raising his hand slightly, waiting for the boy to nod, and reaches out to ruffle his curls. “Hello, Kafziel, it’s good to see you again.”

Thaddeus looks between them in surprise. “You guys know each other?”

They both nod at him, Kafziel giggles again, ducking slightly when the Healer’s large hand ruffles his curls again. “This little scamp was always making off with my things.”

Kafziel giggles softly, batting at the Archangel’s hand when he reaches over to ruffle his curls again, smacking at it lightly, the Archangel chuckles softly, waiting for him to drop his hands, and reaches out to ruffle his curls again, making the boy giggle once more. “He’d always tickle my belly when he caught me.”

“That I did,” Raphael pushes him lightly in the direction of his tub and attending healer. “I’ll come see you in a bit, you go wash up.”

The youngling giggles, jumping forward to hug the Archangel around the waist tightly, pressing his ear to his stomach when a large warm hand curls around the side of his head. “Missed you, Raph.”

“I missed you too, little one, go on and get cleaned up.” They watch the boy and his puppy meet Hadiel, she asks him to put his puppy in first, and Shamsiel barks, hoping up, resting his front paws on the edge of the tub, looking up to his boy as though to say to go ahead and put him in, once they’re sure he’s going to be alright, the Healer turns to the Warden. “Tell me what happened to my boy.”

“Your boy?”

Raphael snorts softly. “Our boy.”

Thaddeus nods, peeking around him to check in on him, watching Hadiel pass a bar of soap to the youngling so he can wash Shamsiel in front of him, and looks back to the Archangel, nodding firmly, and steps away, gesturing for him to follow.

The Healer leans in close when the Warden gestures for him to, listening intently as he whispers in his ear, stiffening as he’s told what’s happened to the sweet youngling who’d come in and try to snatch his things when he wasn’t looking, fingers curling into tight fists, that’s one ‘guard’ he’s not going to take in.

No one’s sure what tipped his temper, but not a soul inquires as to why a severe thunderstorm suddenly gather’s overhead, it’s best not to question it when it happens.

…

“Hello, I’m Raphael, you can call me Raph.” He slides into the chair between the two beds, smiling up at the young prisoner, Thaddeus sitting at their side, holding their hand, scrubbed clean and belly full from a nice hot meal. “What’s your name?”

The young prisoner looks up to the Warden first, and he nods encouragingly, squeezing their hand, and they look back down at him. “Jahoel.”

“It’s nice to meet you Jahoel, do you prefer to be called by your full name, or something else.”

Jahoel smiles lightly. “Oel, I like to be called Oel.”

“Alright, Oel,” the Archangel nods, smiling up at him. “What can I do to help, any injuries that you need taken care of?”

The youngling bites his lip. “I think I broken my knuckles.”

Thaddeus immediately lets go of his hand, lifting it up to examine, Raphael gestures to his other hand, and the boy holds it out to him. He examines it closely, the knuckles are split, dried blood coats the tops, there’s deep bruising around each individual finger. “Can you make a fist?” Jahoel tries, he truly does, but his fingers bend slightly, and he cries out softly, immediately letting go, and he hums. “Definitely broken, I’ll clean it up and bind your hand,” he pulls the cart closer, pulling a small cloth out of the first drawer and a bottle of disinfectant out of the second. “This might sting a bit.”

Jahoel whines at the thought of stinging and turns to the Warden. “Thaddy, hold me!”

The older angel wraps his arms around him tightly, squeezing him close, and the boy hisses as he dabs at his knuckles, gently wiping away the dried blood, it’s quick, and he sighs out a breath of relief when he’s finished, watching him reach into the bottom drawer for a splint, to keep his fingers straight while his knuckles heal, and pulls out two bandage wraps, binding his hand, his fingers, down over his palm, and down around his wrist, both hands, and when he’s done, he pulls his hands up to look at them with wide eyes.

“I know it’ll be rather difficult to have someone doting on you while your hands heal, I’m sorry.”

Jahoel giggles softly, turning his head to look at his guardian. “Thaddy, you’ll dote on me, right?”

Thaddeus chuckles softly, kissing him on the nose. “Hand and foot, baby boy, hand and foot.”

“Alright, now, into bed there.” He stands from his chair, Thaddeus stands from the bed, and the Archangel leans over to pull the blankets back. “Under the blankets, now, it’s passed bedtime for little ones.”

“I’m not little!”

“You’re just a baby, get under those blankets.”

Jahoel laughs softly as he crawls under the blankets, settling back against the pillows. “I’m going to sleep, but only because I want to, not because you said so.”

Thaddeus laughs softly.

Raphael snorts, ruffling the little prisoners curls. “Whatever you say. Sleep well, little one.”

…

“Thaddy, they destroyed all my stuffed animals!” Zazriel cries into the Warden’s chest, sitting in his lap, Raphael sitting in the chair at the side of the bed, frowning in displeasure, destroying a little ones stuffed animals was cruel and unnecessary. “They tore apart Blue and laughed when I cried!”

“Oh, Zaz, it’ll be alright.” Thaddeus scratches at the back of the boys head soothingly. “I’ll get you all new stuffed animals when I’m able to.”

The youngling wails softly. “But, I can’t sleep without Blue!”

He frowns, looking to the Warden for clarification. “Blue?”

The Warden looks down at him from over the youngling’s head. “His stuffed bear. He’s never slept without it.”

“I can see that.” Raphael nods lightly. “The bags under his eyes have bags of their own, unnaturally pale, he’s exhausted, I’d say the only rest he’s gotten was when his body finally shut down.” He reaches out to squeezes the boy’s arm lightly, drawing his attention down to him, and he smiles sadly when the boy sniffles and swallows a soft sob. “Tell me, little one, what does Blue look like?”

Zazriel sniffles, one hand clutching at the front of the Warden’s tunic, and he rubs his nose with the back of his other hand. “Well, he was brown….And fluffy….His fur was really fluffy and soft….and he was this big….and he had a blue bow around his neck…..That’s why I named him Blue……” Tears glisten in his eyes once more. “And, now he’s gone!”

The Archangel hums, reaching out, twisting his hand around, he’s an Archangel, making a teddy bear to that specification is the least he can do. “Did he look like this?”

The distraught youngling turns to look, and his teary eyes widen at the stuffed bear he’s holding out to him, the Healer nods when he looks to him, and the boy squeals softly, something much better then the sobs they’d been hearing, and snatches the bear up, hugging it close to his chest. “It looks just like him!”

“Good.” Raphael smiles at him. “I know he’s not really Blue. But he can be Blue Jr.”

“Yea, I’m gonna name him Blue Jr.!”

“I think he likes that name.” The Archangel stands from his chair. “Now, it’s passed bedtime, lets get you under those blankets.”

Zazriel nods, crawling from Thaddeus’s lap, to the top of the bed, down under the blankets. The older angel smiles at him, hugging his new bear to his chest, and he pats him on the belly. “I’m sleep right across from you, if you have any bad dreams, you come on over, alright?”

“Okay, Thaddy, love you.”

He leans over, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and tucks the blankets up over him and Blue Jr. “I love you too, little one.”

…

“How are you, Zoph, it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other.”

Zophiel smiles at the Archangel, his fingers buried in the fur of the large puppy laying on top of him, Qaspiel licks his cheek lightly and lays back down. “I’m okay, Raph, I was really scared because it was really dark and I’m scared of the dark, but Qasp was there, and he’d whisper in to me when the other guards fell asleep, and he’d stand in front of the grate on my door and hold his torch up so I could see.”

Raphael smiles at him in return. “Qasp is a very good friend.” The puppy barks at him. “Yes, yes you are.”

…

“So, from what I’ve heard, your name is Barbados, but you prefer to be called Ados, am I right?”

The youngling sitting in Thaddeus’s lap. “Yea.”

The Healer smiles up at him. “Anything I can do to help?”

Barbados holds his hands up. “I don’t like small spaces, so when they locked my into that tiny room, I started punching the door to try and get out, and I think I broke my knuckles.”

“Oh, Ados.” Thaddeus squeezes him close, pressing a kiss to the side of his head, one, and then another. “I’m so sorry.”

Raphael takes his hands tenderly, pulling them close to examine them thoroughly, they look exactly like Jahoel’s had. “They most certainly are broken, no matter though, I can fix them right up for you.”

The young prisoner leans forward slightly. “You can?”

He chuckles softly, leaning over for the cart resting at his side. “I wouldn’t be much of a healer if I couldn’t.”

“Cool!”

…

“Hey, Rik.” The youngling giggles as the Warden leans in closer and closer. “I’ve missed you terribly.” The small prisoner tries to lean away but he’s stuck in the older angel’s embrace. “Did you miss me too?” He leans in closer and closer, and the youngling tries to scrunch his shoulder up because he knows where he’s going, and shrieks with laughter when he buries his face in the side of his neck, pushing at his chest as he giggles hysterically.

“Thahahahhaaddyyy! Nohohoho!!”

“Thaddeus!” Raphael smacks the Warden’s leg. “No torturing them until I know they’re alright!”

…

“So, your name is Israfil?”

The youngling nods lightly, clutching Thaddeus’s hand to his chest, staring down at the Healer cautiously. “Y—Yea…”

Raphael smiles up at him. “Did you know, Israfil is the Arabic pronunciation of Raphael?”

Israfil leans forward, interested. “Really?”

“Really,” he nods. “If you ever tell me you wanted to be a healer, I have no doubt you’d be a wonderful one, you could say it was in your genes.”

Thaddeus groans at his corny joke, but Israfil laughs, and that’s what counts.

…

“Achaiah, anything you need Raph to fix up for you?” The youngling shakes his head and Thaddeus gives him a particular look. “Are you telling me the truth, mister?”

Achaiah giggles softly. “I am!”

“Okay, but if I find out you’re lying—”

“I’m not! I swear!”

“Very well,” the Warden tucks the blankets up under his chin. “You get some sleep, little guy, if you need anything at all, you just ask.”

…

Raphael finishes binding Almiras’s feet, they’d flayed them, he detested Sampson, with every fiber of his being, and pulls the blanket back down over them, patting him on the thigh as he scoots his chair around the side of his bed. “Anything else, little one?”

The youngling shakes his head lightly. “No, that’s it.”

“Good, good,” he pats his belly lightly. “No standing for a while, if you need help getting somewhere, one of my healers, or Thaddeus, will carry you, alright?”

“Okay, Raph, thanks for taking us in.”

The Healer smiles, leaning over as he stands, pressing a kiss to his temple, pulling the blankets up under his chin. “You’re very welcome, you get a good rest, little one.”

Thaddeus smiles down at him when he turns to look at him. “You know where my bed is, if you need me, just ask someone to come get me, alright?”

“Okay, Thaddy, I missed you, love you.”

“I love you too, Alm.”

…

Watching the younglings sleep peacefully brings a smile to his face, nodding his head lightly, his arms crossed over his chest.

Tomorrow, they go for his healers, and the next day, they go for everyone else.

Chapter Text

“Raph, they’re in bad shape.” Osmadiel rubs at the back of his neck lightly, leaning against the front of the Archangel’s desk, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “I know your plan was to take it in waves, but I don’t think those that we leave behind can last very much longer, we need to get them all out, and we need to do it soon.”

The Healer rubs at his mouth lightly, nodding in agreement, leaning back in his chair. “From what you three have told me, I must agree, even from the minimal description you’ve given me, they need attention and they need it now.” He nods once more. “When night falls, I want you and a group of the others to go for them, we need to get them out as soon as possible.”

The Prison guard nods lightly. “Got it.”

…

They creep down the hall silently, using hand signals to communicate, their soft footsteps drowned out be the groans and sobs of the prisoners, Osmadiel has decided that the reason Sampson didn’t have guards patrolling the halls was because he was cocky, he didn’t think any of his abused prisoners would attempt to make their escape, he’d undoubtedly warned them what he’d do if they tried, and then proceeded to show them, so they knew first hand what they should be avoiding.

He signals for one to check solitary one more time, just to ensure they hadn’t missed anyone the night before, and they nod, pulling the thick metal door open, taking the torch nearest them, and make their way down into the darkness.

The elder guard gestures for them to spread out, start unlocking cells, gather the prisoners up in the hall, help those who couldn’t walk, and he turns to the cell beside him, pushing the skeleton key into the lock, twisting, listening to the tumblers click, and pulls the gate open.

The prisoner within flinches away, curled into a tight ball in the corner, and he enters cautiously, squatting in front of them, they quiver when he lays a gentle hand on their arm. “It’s okay, we’re going to get you out of here, we’ll take you to safety.”

The arms move slightly, blue eyes peek up at him, and he inhales deeply. “Tzadkiel?”

“Os?” His young friend slowly uncurls, the younger guard, one of the youngest, was the prisoner in this cell, Titus and Thaddeus were going to flip their shit. “Os!” The elder guard catches him when he flings himself forward, curling around him tightly, his arms wrapped around his neck as tightly as he can wrap them around his neck, it’s a miracle that he doesn’t choke, and he wraps his arms around the smaller angel when he heaves a sob into the crook of his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay now, Tzad, I’m going to take you away from this place, I’m going to take you to safety, Tus and Thaddy are going to smother you.” He stands slowly, pulling the younger guard to his feet, curling an arm around his waist. “Stay close, Tzad, stay close to me. I need you to be silent, as silent as a church mouse, when we get back to the Infirmary, you can break down, as you probably should, but you can’t right now, okay?”

Tzadkiel nods quickly, inhaling deeply, to get his sobbing under control, and reaches around to curl his fingers in the back of the older guards belt. Osmadiel walks him out of his cell, turning to watch the others help guide their freed prisoners down towards him, they limp, moaning and whimpering, and he raises a finger to his lips, they need to be silent as the night. “Sshhhh, when we get you to safety, you can break down, but not right now.” He turns to the three guards before him. “Bazazath, Nahaliel, Sabrathan, take up the end, catch any who fall behind.” They nod and turn back; he turns to the four on his right. “Gazardiel, Marmaroth, Abusdarhon, Asteraoth, take up the side. If any appear to be struggling too badly I want you to carry them or be their crutch.” He turns to his left. “You too Galgaliel, Kalaziel, Xanthanael, Sraosha, take up the other side.”

Osmadiel looks back when two more make their appearance, from down in Solitary, and his eyes widen when they’re not alone, they had missed some, they hadn’t actually checked all of the cells to make sure they were empty, they had just unlocked and opened the doors. They had missed seven younglings. Seven. He recognizes a few of them as they approach, stepping further into the light, Yehudiah carrying one in his arms, and he knew why, that one was blind. “Raph and Nis are going to lose their shit.”

Yehudiah and Pesagniyah nod in agreement but make on comments.

The elder guard looks them all over, and nods lightly, squeezing Tzadkiel closer. “We’re going to move quick, if you need assistance walking, ask for it, we have to get back to Raphael as quick as we can.” The prisoners nod slightly in understanding, and he nods in turn, turning around, slowly, helping Tzadkiel around with him, and takes the lead as they slowly, but quickly, amble down the hall.

Temeluch and Aeshma open the doors for them as they approach, nodding mutely as they pass by, a staggering limping mass of nearly broken souls, and close the doors silently, as though nothing had happened, and step forward, joining the ones bringing up the end.

They amble swiftly down the Axis, the guards surrounding them on high alert, waiting and watching for any ambushes, anyone waiting in the shadows, anyone coming their way, hidden by the cover of darkness, the only light they have to guide them being the torches they had confiscated through their breakout.

Someone whispers behind him. “It’s so dark. I can’t see a thing.”

Another pipes up, a voice he recognizes, and he smiles lightly at their quip. “Oh no, what a nightmare.” That’s Zelig, he knows it is, only he would say that to such a statement.

He looks down when Tzadkiel presses closer, he’s nervous, he can’t blame him, he’d be nervous too.

They make their destination uninterrupted, and he takes the first step up to the Infirmary, leading the prisoners up, they slow down as they make their way up the stairs, some of them struggle. Raphael waits at the top, his Virtues at his side, some of his healers behind them, waiting for them to reach them. His eyes widen, as Osmadiel knew they would, when he spots them, and he calls out to them. Five of them break away, darting up the stairs, colliding into the Healer, curling around him, and he wraps his arms around them, holding them in close.

One of the ones behind him whines softly, he knows it’s Zelig, he wants to be up there, but he can’t make it, not on his own. Yehudiah takes the initiative though, jogging up the stairs, and Raphael scoops up the boy from out of his arms. “Oren, take care of the others, these one’s are mine.” He looks up before his Captain can respond. “Sasha, Paul, come with me.” The two other youngling dart forward. “I’ll be around to see you all, they’ll take good care of you, everything will be alright, you’re safe now.”

The prisoners sigh in relief, following after the Healer and his group of younglings, accosted immediately by a Virtue or a healer/

The group of younglings follow him through the rows of beds, Paul and Sasha see him immediately, and call out, darting forward, he looks down at the footprints they leave behind, it was not raining, there was no snow, they should be leaving footprints in their wake.

“Papa! Papa!”

Nisroc looks up at the sound of their voices. “Paul! Sasha!” He’s barely on his feet when they ram into him, knocking him back onto the bed he’d been sitting in, curling around him as much as they can. “Where were you!”

“It was so horribly, papa! It was so horrible!” Paul stammers into his chest. “It was so dark, and I couldn’t see anything, and I didn’t know where Sasha was!”

Sasha presses his face into his chest. “I was so scared, papa! I was so scared! It was so dark! They were so mean! It hurt! It all hurt so bad!”

Nisroc curls his hands around the back of their heads, holding them close, pressing a kiss to their dirty foreheads. “It’s okay now, my little ones, everything’s going to be okay now.”

He passes Zelig down to Puriel when he reaches up for him and Adonia climbs over the baseboard of Abraxos bed, laying himself between his legs, curling his arms around his middle as he presses his face to his belly, and the Archangel leans over to lift one of Paul’s feet. Torn scabs, the skin on their souls has been peeled off in layers, like that of an onion, he lifts the foot up high, into better lighting. The epidermis, not too deep, it seems to have been healing before the scabs had cracked open.

Paul squirms, tugging on his foot, and he pinches his big toe. “No standing. Stay off those feet.”

“How am I supposed to move!”

Raphael smiles, scratching a finger under his baby toe, chuckling softly when he giggles and kicks his foot slightly. “You could always crawl.”

“I am not going to crawl everywhere!”

He chuckles softly. “Well, you got seven strong men here, perhaps if you ask nicely, they’ll carry you where ever you need to go.”

Paul looks up at his guardian. “Papa, you guys will carry us, right?”

The oldest Power chuckles, ruffling his curls fondly. “Of course, we will.” He shakes his head fondly when the youngling sighs in relief, flopping back down on his chest. “You’ve got the whole of the Powers at your service.”

Raphael smiles at them, shaking his head fondly, and leans over to set the youngling’s foot back down. “None of you are to be on your feet.” He turns quickly, scooping up Lahabiel and Shepherd, they’re both small, he can carry them both in his arms, both of his younglings giggle softly, laying their heads on his shoulders, Iaoth climbs up on his back. “I’ll have tubs drawn up for you and new clothes brought over. Let me get everyone settled in and I’ll be back to check in on you.”

They nod at him, and he turns, asking the healer passing by to gather others and draw up four tubs, and carries his own three younglings to a set of empty beds nearest to his desk. “My little ones.” Lahabiel and Shepherd sit up, and he looks between them both with the critical eye of a well-seasoned healer. “Are you alright?”

Shepherd nods lightly. “We’re okay, papa.”

He spares the book a look. “Don’t lie to me, tell me the truth.”

Lahabiel nods. “We’re okay, papa, they just got our feet, we weren’t supposed to be…..you know what, until tomorrow.”

His brother nods lightly. “You saved us just in the nick of time.”

The Archangel smiles, squeezing them close. “I’m glad.” He looks over his shoulder slightly. “Are you alright, Iaoth?”

“I’m a badass bitch, they can’t hurt me!”

The two in his arms laugh and he heaves an exasperated sigh. “Just this once, because of what you’ve been through, I won’t wash your mouth out, but come tomorrow, that’ll be a different story.”

Iaoth giggles softly behind him, climbing up to curl his arms around his neck, pressing their cheeks together. “Thanks, Raph, understood.”

“You’re welcome, don’t let it happen again.” He turns around at the foot of a bed. “Drop down.” Iaoth nods, uncurling his arms, and throws his arms out as he collapses down on the bed. Raphael turns to the next two beds, leaning over to set his younglings down. “The three of you are filthy, I’ll have baths drawn up.”

“Aw, Raph.” Iaoth throws his arms out. “I like being this way. I feel like my true self.”

Shepherd laughs, following the miracle workers lead, throwing his arms out as he falls back against his pillows. “Me too!”

Lahabiel giggles softly. “I’ll take a bath, papa.”

Raphael hums, resting his hands on his hips, looking between the two troublemakers. “Lahabiel is my favorite.”

“I’m insulted.”

“Aw, papa!”

“I’ll give you both a cookie if you take a bath.”

They both sit up. “Okay, I’ll take a bath.”

“That’s what I thought.”

…

“Tus.” The guards captain looks up at the call of his name, and his eyes widen, jumping out of bed. “Tzad!”

One of his youngest guard’s hangs on to one of his oldest, and he smiles, jumping away from Osmadiel. “Tus!” The Power catches the young guard as he stumbles, tripping over his sore feet, wrapping him in close, sweeping him up off his feet. “Tus, I’m so happy to see you!”

“Tzad, are you alright?” He turns, leaning over to set him on his bed. “I didn’t expect you to come with them, not like this.”

Tzadkiel rubs at his cheek lightly. “I wouldn’t do it! I couldn’t do it!”

Titus smiles down at him, curling his fingers around his cheeks. “I’m so proud of you, for not letting go of your morals, I’m so proud.” He looks over when there’s a thunk, a healer smiles at him, setting down a tub for the filthy guard turned prisoner, and turns back to look at his young guard. “We’ll get you cleaned up, tended to, and into bed.”

The young guard stares up at him for a moment. “Tus, can I sleep with you?”

“I’m not letting you sleep anywhere else.”

…

“Papa, it was so scary!” Arlo wails into the Archangel’s chest, the blankets of his bed pulling around his waist, Raphael’s arms curled around him tightly. “Sampson isn’t anything like Thaddy! It was so scary! He hurt my feet and he said he wanted to make sure I couldn’t run and they yelled at me when I cried and it was so scary!”

“Hush, my little one, it’s alright, you’re safe now, I’m not letting anything bad happen to you ever again.” He rubs his hand down the back of his young healers head. “Your feet are bound up nice and snug, you’ve had a nice hot meal, what you need now is a good rest.”

“Papa, please don’t go! Please!”

“I have to check on my other patients.” The Healer scratches a finger over the back of the boy’s neck. “You won’t be alone, Lamechiel is going to stay with you.” He turns, picking something up on his other side. “And, you can sleep with my cloak.”

Arlo leans back, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “I can?”

“Sure, you can.” He shakes his cloak out, pushing the boy back gently, down against his pillows, and tucks the cloak around him. “There, nice and warm?”

The young healer nods lightly, pulling the hood of the Archangel’s cloak up under his nose. “Nice and warm, papa.”

“Good.” Raphael strokes his cheek lightly. “You get a good nights rest, I’ll come check on you in a bit.”

Arlo yawns widely, settling back against his pillows, tugging the cloak closer. “Okay, papa.”

…

“How are you, Gamaliel?” Thaddeus brushes the prisoners curls back, looking down as the healer tending to him finishes wrapping his feet, before turning his attention back to the prisoner. “Did they get you too bad?”

“Thaddy, I miss you being Warden.” Gamaliel sniffles, clutches the Warden’s hand to his chest, and he squeezes the prisoners fingers. “When are you coming back?”

“As soon as this whole thing is over, I’m gonna kick Sampson’s ass, and I’m taking my Prison back.” He pokes the prisoner in the belly. “Then, I’m going to give this tummy a good session.”

The prisoner giggles. “I can’t wait.”

“Neither can I!”

…

“There we are, Kutiel.” He pulls the blankets down over his healers bound feet, and scoots around the side of his bed, Kutiel smiles at him, and he takes his hand, pressing his lips to his palm. “Is there anything else I should look at, my little one?”

His healer shakes his head. “No, I’m alright, Raph.”

“Hmm, if you say so, but I’ll be keeping my eye on you.” Raphael smiles at him, pressing another kiss to the back of his hand, and guides him back against his pillows. “You get a good rest.”

Kutiel smiles at him, nodding down into his pillows, curling up on his side. “Thanks for coming to get us, Raph.”

“I’ll always come for you. Always.”

…

“Alright, Xapham, I know it’s going to be a difficult task, but you are to stay in this bed until I tell you that you can get up.”

The healer groans, throwing himself back against his pillow dramatically. “But, that’s going to take forever!”

Raphael chuckles, patting his healer on the belly as he stands, pulling the blankets up over him. “It won’t be that bad.”

…

“Here, Zuphlas, drink this.” Raphael leans forward, holding a glass out to the healer in the bed, Zuphlas was restless, he was exhausted, he has no doubts he hasn’t been sleeping. “You need a good nights rest.”

Zuphlas takes the glass but stares at him, unsure, he doesn’t want the terror to come back. “Raph…..Raph, I can’t….”

“It’s alright, my little one, it’ll be a dreamless sleep.”

The healer blinks at him. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

…

“How are you, Abalim?”

His healer shrugs his shoulders, and Raphael sighs softly, rubbing his bandaged back lightly, his healer had been beaten, Sampson had dared to whip his healer, and Michael had dared to put him there. “I’m okay, I guess.”

“It’s okay to not be okay, little one.”

Abalim sniffles softly. “I’m not okay, papa.”

“Let it out, little one, let it out.”

The healer turns to the Archangel. “Papa, will you hold me?”

“Come here, my little one, of course, I’ll hold you.”

…

“Abariel!” He sweeps his healer of her feet, she giggles, curling an arm around his shoulders. “I told you to stay off those feet.”

“Hey, Raph!”

Raphael glares at his healer playfully. “Don’t you ‘Hey, Raph’ me, little miss, I told you to stay off those feet.”

“Did you really though?”

“Yes,” he chuckles as he leans over to set her on her bed. “Yes, I did. Go to sleep, little one, you need it.”

…

“Come here, Aladiah, come here, my little one.” He opens his arms for her, and she sniffles, crawling up into his lap, curling around him, and he curls his arms around her. “It’s alright, my little one, let it out, I’ve got you.”

“Papa, it was so bad! It was so scary!”

“I know, my little one, you’re safe now.” Raphael strokes his hand down the back of her head. “Papa’s got you, I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

…

“I’m happy you’re okay, baby Power.”

Zelig shrieks softly, batting at the fingers wiggling into his belly, squirming around over the medic under him. “Puhuhuhuhuri! Puhuhuhuhuhuri! Aaahahahhahahahahahhaa! Stohohohohop! Stohohohhohop! Aahahahahahahhahaa! Nohohohoo mohohohohore! Nohohoho mohohohore!”

Puriel chuckles softly, giving one last wiggle of his fingers, and curls his arms around the young blind baby Power. “Oh, alright, but we’ve missed out on quality tummy torture, so you best expect it coming in the near future.”

The young miracle worker giggles softly, feeling for the Power’s hands, and intertwines their fingers when he finds them. “I missed you, Puri.”

He chuckles softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to the back of his head, squeezing him gently. “I missed you too, Zel.”

…

“Here,” Tagas looks up at the sound of his voice, smiling at the Healer as he sits on the edge of his bed, holding out a stuffed cat. “I thought you might want a companion.”

The miracle worker smiles, snatching up the stuffed feline, hugging it close. “Thanks, Raph.”

Raphael smiles down at him warmly, stroking his fingers of the boy’s scarred cheek. “You are most welcome, little Tag, you should get some rest.”

He looks down at his new stuffed companion for a moment before looking back up at the Archangel. “Raph, will you stay with me, until I fall asleep?”

“Of course, little one, of course I’ll stay with you.”

…

Abraxos smiles down at their little miracle worker as he sleep, curled up against his side, around his arm, and strokes a finger down the bridge of his nose tenderly. “That’s it, baby Power, you get some rest, we’re all right here.”

…

Thaddeus meets him after tucking Yofniel, Bahram, Bethor, and Paschar into bed. Raphael spares him a glance as his eyes skim over the sleeping prisoners they’d just freed.

“Thank you.”

The Healer looks down at the Warden. “For what?”

He looks up at the older angel. “For taking them in.”

“You don’t have to thank me; I would have at some point.” The Archangel looks away, returning to his surveillance. “But, you’re most welcome.” He reaches around and rubs the Warden’s back soothingly. “Go get some rest, everything will be alright, it looks as though Theo and Saba are waiting for you.”

Thaddeus looks over at their conjoined beds and smiles, nodding to the Archangel. “Goodnight, Raph.”

“Goodnight, Thaddeus, pleasant dreams.”

“You too.”

Chapter Text

He came as the sun finally fell behind the horizon, just as they were about to close the doors and lock them for the night, the guards that had been posted there already inside and tucked into bed, content that their heads were being scratched while they slowly fell asleep, their bellies full from a nice hot meal. He was running, as best as he could with a limp, blood dripping down his face, his eye blackened and bruised, his lip split open, calling out to them to wait, to let him in.

They step aside to allow him entry, his injured leg finally gives out, and he collapses just inside the doors, smacking down onto the floor with a solid thump. A pair of boots enter his vision, and he sighs in relief, he knows those boots, and he knows who they belong to.

“Close the doors, it’s getting cold, we don’t need anyone catching anything.” He knows that voice, it’s the voice from his fledglinghood, showing him everything there was to see in the Garden, and his savior squats in front of him, a large warm hand curling under his chin, pulling his head up, Raphael smiles down at him. “I was wondering when you’d come, little willow.”

“I’m sorry, Raph, I thought he would leave me alone.” Joshua mumbles, licking at the blood on his lip, rubbing at the dripping blood with his right hand. “I always remain neutral, I thought he would leave me alone, but he came, he came, demanding that I be imprisoned. I don’t understand, Raph, why, why would he have me imprisoned, what did I do wrong?”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, my little willow.” The Healer smacks his hand away gently when he reaches back up to wipe at the blood dripping down the side of his face. “My brother is being spiteful, childish and spiteful, he came after you hoping to get to me.” He holds his hands out to the Gardener. “Let’s get you up and into a bed, I’ll look you over then, once your nice and situated.”

“Yes, Raph.” Joshua takes his hands, wincing as he’s pulled to his feet, his Archangel taking note of his favoring his left leg immediately, and carefully sweeps him off his feet, having decided he is not allowing him to walk on a bum leg, no matter the distance, and he curls his arm around the Archangel’s shoulders. “Thanks, Raph.”

“Of course, little willow.” Raphael smiles at him as he turns around, carrying him down the aisle, to the nearest empty bed, choosing to put him in Oren’s section, his Captain would ensure his Gardener got the best of care, not that the others wouldn’t, it’s just that Oren’s section was closest to his desk, and he wanted to have his Gardener close. “Here’s your bed.” He leans over, setting the Gardener down on his bed carefully, reaching for the chair between his bed and the next, taking a seat as he pulls the cart closer. “Let’s see what we’re working with here, we’ll take care of the injuries as we come to them, first, we’ll take care of that lip.” He pulls the first drawer of the cart open, pulling out a cloth, and then the third, for a bottle of disinfectant. “This might sting a bit. I’ll try to be quick.”

Joshua nods, trying to remain as still as possible for him as he wets a small spot on the cloth and reaches up to dab at his split lip, whining softly at the sting, he reaches up, curling his fingers around his Archangel’s wrist, it’s only a moment, but it feels like the longest moment of his life.

“There we are, all clean, let’s take a look at the severity of the split.” The Healer leans in closer, curling his fingers around his chin lightly, turning his head slightly to get a better look. “It’s rather deep, I loathe to think on how you came about this injury, we’ll have to stitch it closed so it can heal properly.” Joshua immediately curls his hand around his mouth when his Archangel turns away from him for the cart, to ready a needle and thread, and he sighs when he turns back around. “Josh, you’re going to have to move your hand.”

The Gardener shakes his head.

Raphael heaves a sigh. “Joshua, you can either move your hand, or I can have someone move it for you, either way, I am going to stitch up your lip.” It’s a tad trickier to do it one handed, but he isn’t not accommodating to his patients needs, and holds his free hand out. “I know you don’t like it, here, hold my hand, give it a good squeeze when it hurts, alright?” The younger angel stares down at his hand for a long moment, before nodding, reaching out with both hands to clutch at the Archangel’s. The Healer nods, squeezing his fingers soothingly, holds the needle with his lips as he positions the Gardener’s head, and takes it back in hand when he’s in position. “Okay, since I’m doing this one handed, I need you to be as still as possible, okay, when it hurts, you can’t jerk away or you’ll tear the skin and I’ll have to start again, so squeeze my hand when it hurts instead of jerking away, alright?” Joshua makes a small noise in acknowledgement, squeezing his hand in anticipation when he leans forward, whining softly when the needle pokes into the skin. “It only needs a couple, three at the most, it’ll be over before you know it.” The Gardener tries as hard as he might to sit as still as he possibly can, whining softly at the prick of the needle, squeezing the Healer’s hand tightly. “There we are, all done, I need my hand back so I can tie it off.”

Joshua let’s go of his hand, and he ties the end quickly, snipping the thread, leaning around to set the needle in the tray on top of the cart. “Sorry for being such a baby.”

The Archangel chuckles softly. “You are not a baby. You have a fear of needles, that’s rather common, more so then you would think, it’s nothing to be upset about.” He takes up the cloth and disinfectant as he stands, brushing back the younger angel’s curls. “Lets see where this blood is coming from, here we are, there’s a gash on your temple.” Joshua hisses as he wipes it clean. “It’s not too bad, no stitches needed, a butterfly bandage will do just fine.” He leans over, opening the first drawer of the cart, and pulls out a bandages, placing it over the gash on his temple. Joshua closes his eye when he rubs a finger under it, over the bruise forming over the skin. “There’s little I can do for a black eye I’m afraid.”

“It’s okay, it doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“Sure, I’ll pretend I believe that.” He takes his seat again, helping the Gardener take his boots off and turn to rest on his bed fully, pulling the sock off his right foot. “Let’s see what’s causing that limp, shall we?” He feels around his ankle, looking up at him when the Gardener hisses as he fingers a particularly tender spot. “It’s fractured, but nothing too severe, I’ll wrap it, do not put too much weight on it, Joshua.” The Healer leans back. “I’ll wrap it after you wash up, you’re covered in dirt and grass stains, I’ll get someone to help you.”

The Gardener sighs softly. “Please don’t call Oren over.”

Raphael smiles at him. “Oren, come here.”

He buries his face in his hands when his oldest brother appears behind their Archangel. “Yea, Raph?”

The Healer smiles up at him. “Will you help your brother wash up?” He gestures to the Gardener. “His ankles broken, so be mindful.”

“Noted.” Oren smirks lightly. “I would be more than happy to.”

Joshua groans into his hands.

…

Raphael hums softly as he sets the Gardeners broken ankle down on the bed, bound securely, immobile and splinted, turning to look at his grown charge. “There, all wrapped up, it should heal correctly, in no time.” He pats his leg lightly. “No standing on it, I’d prefer you to ask someone for help if you need to get up, but I know you rather well, so if you do get up, hop on one foot until you fall into someone, and then allow them to help you.” Joshua laughs softly, he can tell his mind is elsewhere, and squeezes his leg lightly. “What’s on your mind, my little one?”

“Eli and Zeke.” The younger angel looks up at him. “I told them to hide and didn’t have time to search for them before I came here, the guards chased me all the way to the bottom of the stares, before giving up. I fear Michael will search for them and take them away.”

The Healer hums in acknowledgement. “Those two are the craftiest fledglings I know, they’ll be alright, why, I wouldn’t be surprised if they came here on their own. Don’t underestimate those two.” He smiles lightly. “Did you know, before you took them in, those two used to sneak into my room and take my things, small trinkets and such, it took me a long while to learn it was them.”

Joshua smiles slightly. “Really?”

“Indeed, really.” He nods lightly. “The only reason I found out was because Eli had been molting when they went through their pilfering of my things, and he left a few feathers behind.” He winks at him. “Don’t tell them that I know, it’ll break their little hearts, and we don’t want that.”

“Do you really think they’ll come here, on their own?” The younger angel looks to his lap for a moment. “I feel horrible for abandoning them.”

“You shouldn’t.” Raphael brushes his fingers through his curls. “Given the circumstances, you made the right decision, those two will figure things out, but if you were to be taken, or even worse, struck down, those small fledglings were be completely on their own, and left with no other choice to be sorted into a flock again, and I fear, they may not be kept together.” He pulls the blankets up over him. “Now, it’s late, there’s no use in fretting over things you can’t control nor change, get some rest, and see what tomorrow brings, you just might be surprised.”

…

He stands in the entry way of his Infirmary, watching the poor souls try and make it within the sanctuary he had unwittingly built for those afflicted by the war, more guards had been posted to the entrance, guards from under Sampson’s control, crueler then the ones previously, these ones, he would not take in. One of the guards jams a spear into a limping man’s side, and he cries out, his pace slowing down, the guard grabs him roughly, and the man cries out in pain and terror, everyone knows where you go if you’re caught. He wishes he could intervene, jump to his defense, but he’s unable to involve himself, he can’t help them until they make it inside the entry way.

Raphael raises an eyebrow when the guard yelps, tumbling over backwards, pulling the limping angel back with him, one passing by pauses, bouncing in place as they contemplate this situation, they’re so close to the Healers domain, to the safety it offers, to their own salvation, but they turn, running for the limp man, and tugs him up, helping him forward, until they stumble within the entry way, accosted away by healers.

He hums in amusement when he catches sight of a familiar head of curls, two heads of familiar curls, interfering with the guards grappling with the ones attempting to reach the safety of the Infirmary. One of them fall to their hands and knees behind one guard, and the other pushes the back of the one grappling with him, diverting their attention for a breath of a moment, and they smile, nodding in understanding, and shove the guard forward, they trip over the fledgling huddled behind them, and yelp as they tumble backwards.

Crafty fledglings, indeed.

The woman they’d helped thanks them, running forward, through the entry way.

Their teamwork is immaculate, making silent orders as they slowly but surely assist the others, leaving them as the only ones amidst the guards, surrounded on all sides, and he leans forward, worried that perhaps they’re not crafty enough.

The dark haired fledgling takes his brothers hand. Both fledglings run forward, dirty and bruised, and slide under the legs of a guard trying to fell them up, stumbling back to the feet as they continue their trek forward, their distance seems impossibly far from him, and he squats, holding his arms out for them, encouraging them forward as their stamina starts to dwindle, urging them to keep running.

One of the poor fledglings stumbles, narrowly missing the outstretched hands of a guard, but his friend pulls him forward sharply, and they both stumble at the sudden momentum. At the last moment, the little fledgling finally tripped, falling forward, crying out as they did, and his friend tugs him forward again. Putting his entire body into it, he turned and tugged as much as he could, as strongly as he could manage, sending them both tumbling backwards.

Both little boys stare ahead in terror as the guards run after them, fingers gripping their spears and swords tightly, and Raphael leans forward, as much as he can, triumph filling him when he manages to curl his fingers in the back of their little robes.

Both fledglings yelp as they yanked up from their place just a mere half a foot away from the entrance to the Infirmary, flailing slightly as they lifted and pulled back.

The guards halt in their advance, as he curls his arms around their waists, holding them close to him, one boy looking down at the dark arm curled around his waist, smiling in relief, reaching out to tap on his friends arm, gesturing for him to look down too, and he does, high-fiving his friend at their success.

Their Archangel friend’s voice rumbles behind them. “You wouldn’t dare.”

They back away from the Archangel, shaking their heads in stony silence, and the Healer nods firmly.

“Wise decision.” He turns away from them, taking the little ones with him, chuckling softly when they sit up in his arms to peer over his shoulders to wave mockingly at the guards who’d tried to take them in custody. “Close the doors, Oren.”

The boy’s turn, curling an arm around his shoulders, pressing a sticky kiss to his cheeks, they’d eaten fruit recently. “Hi, Raph!” The other boy giggles lightly. “Thanks for savin’ us!”

He bounces them on his arms lightly, enticing more giggles from them. “You are most welcome, little ones.” He turns his head, pressing a kiss to the one’s cheek. “I’m happy you’re safe, little Eli.” And turns to do the same with the other one. “You too, Zeke.” The Archangel turns down the third aisle. “I know someone who’s been very anxious to see you two.” He makes a face at the state of them. “You both could do with a good scrubbing, little ones.”

Elijah giggles brightly. “I like bein’ like this!”

Ezekiel giggles in turn with his greatest friend. “Me too!”

“Well,” The Healer hums softly. “I have a plate of cookies upstairs, only clean little angels can have cookies, I guess we’ll just have to pass over you two.”

Both fledglings fall silent for a moment. “What kind of cookies?”

“Peanut butter chocolate chip cookies.”

Elijah and Ezekiel exchange glances. “Okay, Raph, we’ll take a bath.”

The Archangel smiles. “I thought you would.”

“Eli?” They both look over at the familiar voice. “Zeke?”

Both fledglings squirm in his arms. “Josh!” He leans over to set them on their feet, watching fondly as they run into the Gardener’s arms, curling around him as he lifts them into his arms. “Josh! We thought they took you!”

“My little ones.” Joshua holds them close. “I’m so happy you’re alright.”

Elijah pulls away after a moment of hanging on to him. “Raph said we can have a cookie if we take a bath!”

Ezekiel pulls back too. “Will you help us take a bath so we can have cookies?”

The older angel chuckles softly. “Yes, I would be more then happy to help you take a bath so you can have some cookies.”

Chapter Text

When they first came here, it had been a bad time, he’d had to watch from within the Archangel’s immoveable grip as his beloved guardian was beaten down and dragged away, he’d become hysterical, fighting against the Archangel as he was lifted away, off his feet, as they turned away from the doorway, where his guardian had last been seen, and he hadn’t gone quietly, screaming and crying and flailing, trying to break the hold around him to run after Moriah, he’d go with him, as long as they were together, he’d go too.

The Archangel had ordered the Virtue to do something, he hadn’t heard what he’d said in his hysteria, but there had been a light prick in his arm and then everything had slowly started to wind down, his gusto leaving him, his flailing slowly coming to a stop, until he simply hung limp in the Archangel’s arms. He was half asleep, he knew they’d drugged him, as the Virtue carefully removed the pack from his back, when he was set down in a bed, the Healer leaning over him, his eyes were sad as he caressed his cheek, apologizing softly under his breath for the loss of his beloved guardian, and turned, tugging his boots off gently as he pulled the blankets up over him. He laid there, alone, without Mori’s warmth at his side, his arms curled around him, holding him close, staring at the ceiling, tears dripping from his eyes silently, until the full effect of the drug they’d given him kicked in, and he fell asleep, without Mori, without Bubbles, completely on his own.

He’d woken some time later, still too tired to open his eyes, but awake enough to hear the noises around him. He heard Raphael talking softly to someone else, he didn’t know who it was, or truly make out what they were saying, but he knew they were talking, and he knew he wanted to hear what they were saying, but sleep pulled at him, beckoning him back into it’s comforting embrace, and he fell back under again.

He awoke again, sometime later, when the edge of his bed dipped, a hand curling around his cheek, and the voice spoke, he knew that voice, he knew it like he knew the back of his hand, he knew who that voice belonged to, and he wanted to open his eyes, to see if it was just a cruel trick, a dream, showing him what he wanted but couldn’t have, and then his arm’s lifted, a plush object curled under his arm. Bubbles. Someone had given him bubbles. He hears that voice again, soft but deep, kind, gentle, playful, understanding, soothing. There was a soft squeaking sound as the bed next to him was pushed up against his, someone climbed into the bed next to him, hands turns him around gently, pulling him on close, and he sighs softly, as sleep pulls at him again, as he’s pressed against a chest, strong and firm, but squishy too, the perfect kind of chest to press into. He inhales softly, taking in the scent, something sweet, like cookies and cakes, and cinnamon, it smelled like him, the arms were like his, the chest was like his, it was all like him.

But he’d seen him get dragged away.

It was him.

…

Zander didn’t mind being here now, now that he had Mori back, Thaddy was here, he got to play with Sora, the Archangel let him sit on his knee and color while he worked on his charts, a hand curled around his belly to secure him in place, and he got lots of tickles.

He loves tickles.

Tickles always make everything better.

His favorite tickles came from Mori and Thaddy, and Raph, he’d come up behind him silently and scoop him up in his arms, retreat back to his desk chair, cradle him in his lap, and attack his belly with tickles. Sometimes him and Mori would gang up against him, and it was mean, but it was fun.

Thaddy had pulled him down between the four of his bunkmates, his head had fallen into Saba’s lap and he’d lifted his arms above his head, they’d teased him for a couple minutes, just wiggling their fingers over him, until he was giggling hysterically, and then they made their attack, and he squealed and cackled, bouncing under them, kicking out as best as he could, as Saba wiggled his index fingers in his armpits, Ion clawed at his belly, Thaddy got that one really bad spot, and Theo spidered his fingers up and down his inner thigh. He squealed and cackled until he fell silent, and they laughed at him in good humor, before they stopped. He’d giggled hysterically, even after they stopped, and they chuckled down at him fondly.

“Theo,” Zander turns to the younger Warden, either ignoring it or not noticing it, when he stiffens at being addressed, and Ion’s aura grows just a tad darker. “You’re a tickle monster like Thaddy, too!”

Theo smiles brightly at the comment, he sees his older brother smiling at his smiling at the comment, and he wiggles a finger in his lower side, making him giggle again and lean away from him. “You bet I am, but only you know,” he looks down, pulling his wiggling finger away, growing solemn again. “No one else does.”

The youngling tilts his head slightly. “Why not, didn’t you ever do sessions like Thaddy?”

Ion inhales deeply, it feels like a warning, but he doesn’t necessarily notice it as such.

Saba releases his arms mutely, sighing softly.

Thaddeus shakes his head. “Zan, don’t be nose—”

“I did something bad before I could.”

Zander thinks for a moment, trying to think of what he could have done, but comes up with nothing. “What did you do?”

Theo rubs at his arm lightly, like he had when he’d first come, and some healers pause as they walk passed when they see the gesture they hadn’t seen in some time, one of them, a few beds down, taps on the Healer’s arm, gesturing to the five of them when he looks down at her, when the Co-Warden rubs his arm. “I…I hurt Thaddy before I got the chance….I hurt him bad.” He feels his heart ache, Zander had been so nice to him, he’d complimented him, and now he’d hate him, for what he’d done to Thaddeus, whom he clearly adored. “I…I took him to Naomi….I helped her brainwash him…..I’m bad…I’m sorry…”

He stiffens in surprise when a body presses against his own, arms curling around his neck, a warm cheek pressing to his own. “It’s okay, Theo. You aren’t bad. She tricked you, I know she did, it’s not your fault.”

The Co-Warden is as stiff as a board. “You….You don’t even know why I took him there.”

“I don’t need to know why.” Zander hugs him tighter. “It’s not my business to know. But I know something bad must have been happening to you, and she tricked you, she’s the bad one, not you. Everyone makes mistakes, makes decisions that aren’t good, it’s not just you.”

“You must hate me now….Everyone’s going to hate me when they find out.”

Zander shakes his head lightly. “I don’t hate you. You’re fun, and you’re a tickle monster, and I love tickle monsters, you’re my new friend.” Theo smiles lightly, the tension slowly washing away, and slowly wraps his arms around the youngling curled around him. “And, if anyone gives you a hard time, you tell me, and I’ll kick their ass—” Thaddeus clears his throat. “Butts. I’ll kick their butts, because you’re my friend, and that’s what friends do for each other.”

The Co-Warden absorbs his words for a long mute moment. “I’m your friend?”

“My best friend!” Zander pauses for a moment. “Well, my fourth best friend.”

Theo tilts his head slightly. “Fourth?”

The youngling nods, humming as he does. “Yea, Thaddy’s my first best friend, Mori’s my second best friend, and Raph’s my third best friend, so you’re fourth.”

Thaddeus looks over when he hears the Archangel snort softly, smiling as their eyes meet, the youngling named his best friends with such conviction, declaring that as their titles.

Theo smiles just a bit more, lowering his head slightly, hiding slightly behind the youngling’s shoulder. “Thank you, Zander, I’m glad to be your fourth best friend, thank you for not hating me.”

“You’re welcome.” The youngling pulls away after a long couple of minutes and smiles up at him. “You made a mistake. That doesn’t make you bad. I can’t hate you for making a mistake.”

The Co-Warden starts slightly when fingers curl around his shoulders, rubbing gently, and the Archangel’s deep voice calls from over his head. “You’re truly something, little Zan, you’re very wise for your young age.”

“I’m just saying,” Zander shrugs slightly. “It’s not nice to hate someone and not want to be their friend because they made a mistake, everyone makes mistakes, we’re not perfect, mistakes are going to happen, it’s a part of life.” He shrugs again. “I can’t hate someone for making a mistake when I make mistakes too.”

“Very well said, little one, very well said.” Raphael smiles down at him. “So, what’s this I hear about me being your third best friend?”

…

“Mori?”

His guardian hums, his chest rumbling under him, his eyes closed as he rests lightly, scratching softly at his head. “Yes, little octopus?”

Zander mauls over the words Theo had said, he’s young, but he’s observant, he always has been, and Mori worked under Ak, and Ak knows all about this stuff. “How do you know if someone’s been brainwashed?”

The fingers scratching at the back of his head still completely. “What?” The voice sounds clearer now, more attentive, and he turns his head, lifting it away from his guardians chest, Moriah’s eyes shine with concern, his eyebrows furrowed. “How does one know if someone’s been brainwashed?”

“Yea, how does someone know?”

Moriah eyes him for a moment and sighs. “Well, there’s a long list of symptoms, the most common are a change in personality, change in temperament, forgetfulness, the compulsion to confess, reaching a breaking point, a change in nervous ticks, false or adjusted memories, there’s a few more, but those are usually the most noticeable ones.” He scratches at the back of the youngling’s head again. “Why do you ask?”

Zander bites his lip for a moment. “You’ve been friends with Thaddy for a long time, right?”

The healer nods. “Since he became Warden.”

Zander nods again. “So, you know Theo well too, right?”

The older angel tilts his head, not quite understanding where this was going, but nods. “I’ve known him since he became Co-Warden, I used to hang around quite a bit on my off days, we usually hung around together.”

The youngling nods lightly. “Mori, how did the prisoners feel about Theo?”

He doesn’t quite understand what’s on his mind. “They loved him, almost as much as they loved Thaddy, no one can quite surpass him, I’m afraid, but they adored him. He loved him just as much in return, he loved being Co-Warden, he’d greet them every morning, sneak them sweets when Thaddeus wasn’t looking, they knew how mean he could be from his sessions, so when one started getting mouthy or acted up, he’d just have to point at them, they’d start giggling and apologizing. They were good friends with him.”

Zander nods again. “Do you know what Theo’s nervous tick was?”

Moriah stares at him for a long moment. “He’d bite his lower lip when he was nervous. Or, he’d play with his earlobes. Sometimes both.”

“So, he never used to rub his arm when he was nervous or upset?”

The healer shakes his head. “Not from what I can remember, no.”

The youngling nods once more. “Were you friends with Saba, too?”

Moriah nods lightly. “Yes, I was friends with a majority of the Prison’s occupants.”

Zander bites his lip again. “What was he like?”

His guardian hums. “Saba, well, he was a lot like he is now. Kind, gentle, loving. He took his position as head guard very seriously, the others were an extension of himself, and he treated them as well as he wanted to be treated. He had the memory of an elephant, someone could tell him something and a week later he’d come back and repeat it, I don’t think he ever forgot anything, not that I know of, anyway. He was always on top of it, from what I remember. He was always reserved and quiet, though, not as quiet as he is now, but interacted with his guards frequently.”

The youngling absorbs this. “If someone told him that someone was being bullied or hurt, would he have told someone?”

Moriah nods faintly. “Most certainly, Saba took the safety and well being of his everyone very seriously, the one he’d need to go to for that would be Thaddeus, and he’s most certainly have gone to him if he was informed someone was being mistreated.”

Zander nods. “Would he ever forget to?”

“Well,” the healer hums faintly. “He might not remember at that very moment, especially if he was especially busy, but I don’t think he’d forget, he’d have told Thaddeus by days end, at least, but I do know for certain that he would have told him.” He watches his youngling’s mind turn over this information, he can see the metaphorical gears turning as he mauls over it, something brewing inside of him. “Why do you ask, little Zan?”

Zander doesn’t want to say, not if he’s wrong about what he thinks, but then if he isn’t, he wants them to get help, so he nods firmly, and looks up to meet his guardian’s eyes. “Mori, I think Theo and Saba were brainwashed.”

Chapter Text

“Zan, why do you think Theo and Saba’s been brainwashed?”

Zander looks back up at his guardian. “Well, you said Theo would bite his lip or play with his ears when he was nervous or upset, and he rubs his arm now.” He wiggles a finger lightly in the healer’s chest. “You said that the prisoners really loved him, but he says they used to hurt him. You said he was a tickle monster and used to do sessions like Thaddy, but he says he never got a chance to. You said that the prisoners loved and adored him, but he says that they hated him. You still visited a lot, right?”

Moriah nods lightly. “I visited frequently, yes.”

The youngling nods assuredly. “Did you notice any change while visiting?”

The healer frowns lightly, thinking back on the past, and finds himself nodding in a growing sense of horror. “He did, now that you mention it, he went to see Naomi, she had asked to see Thaddeus, but he was unavailable at the time, and Theo went in his stead.” He pauses. “I visited him once after he came back, and he was different, skittish, cautious, he’d flinch away from the prisoners, sometimes he’d have mini breakdowns, as if they were abusing him.” He shakes his head lightly. “From what I know, they don’t hate him, they’re upset and confused, as to why he went from being how he was one day, and completely different the next. There were a number of them that were close to him, as others are close to Thaddy, they had a close relationship, from what I can remember, some even called him papa, but stopped when he changed.”

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, as his mind wraps around what he’s being told, about how his friend had changed so suddenly.

“And,” Zander pulls him from his thoughts. “You said if someone told Saba someone was being hurt that he’d tell Thaddy for certain and that he wouldn’t forget, but he did, that’s not something that would happen from someone who has the memory of an elephant.”

“No,” Moriah shakes his head. “He wouldn’t have.” He pats the back of the boy’s head. “Get up, I need to get Raph and Ak.”

The youngling crawls off of his guardian, sitting himself on the edge of their beds, watching him make his way down the aisle, to the Archangel’s desk, where he and his two oldest Virtues are gathered. Raphael and Akriel lean closer as Mori says something, he’s not sure exactly what he’s saying, but he has a vague idea.

Both older healers turn to look at him, and he smiles at them, waving slightly, pulling his legs up in front of him when they turn in his direction, walking back his way with Moriah, and he reaches for Bubbles for moral support.

Akriel sits across from him on the other bed, he smiles and wiggles his fingers at him, and Zander can’t help but giggle at the sight of it. The Archangel sits next to the mental specialist, Mori sits himself back at his side, rubbing his back encouragingly.

Raphael smiles at him when he looks over to meet his eyes. “Little Zan, Moriah says you have some pretty hefty accusations.” Zander nods firmly, he’s young, but he’s not stupid, and he stands by what he thinks and says. “Moriah’s told us you believe Theo and Sabaoth were both…..for lack of better term….brainwashed.” He nods again and the Archangel hums curiously. “And, have you any evidence?” Zander shrugs and the Archangel raises an eyebrow at the response. “You haven’t any evidence, or you don’t know?”

Moriah rubs his back soothingly. “Sorry, he’s not one to talk when he’s nervous, but yes, he believes he has evidence, and from what he’s told me, it sounds pretty substantial, there’s a particular bit that I can substantiate as well.” He smiles down at him, and the youngling scoots closer to him, pressing into his side. “He’s young, but he’s observant, he’s not one to make baseless accusations.”

Raphael nods slightly, and turns his attention back to the youngling, smiling at him in reassurance. “It’s alright, little one, tell me what you know.”

He nods slightly, hugging Bubbles close, he doesn’t want what he thinks to have happened be wrong and lose his friends, Thaddy would be made at him if he was wrong and said that about Theo, Theo wouldn’t want to be his friend anymore, Nisroc wouldn’t let him come play with Sora anymore.

But, then, if something had happened and he didn’t tell someone what he thought he’d be hurting them too.

Zander nods firmly, as though to assure himself, and looks up to meet the eyes of those looking back at him. “I think Saba and Theo were brainwashed.”

Akriel inhales slightly. “What makes you think that?”

The youngling licks his lips and looks up to his guardian, Moriah nods encouragingly, smiling down at him, rubbing his side soothingly, and he turns back to them. “Well, Mori said that some of the things you look for is a change in personality, a change in nervous habits, forgetfulness, and false or adjusted memories.” They nod in affirmation and he continues. “Well, Mori said he was really good friends with them, and hung out with them a lot, and he said that the prisoners really loved, Theo, and he loved them too, and that he’s done sessions, and that they got along great. But, Theo says that the prisoners would hurt him and call him names and beat him up, Mori even said that he remembers Theo being like that before he went to see what Naomi wanted, that she wanted Thaddy but Thaddy was busy and couldn’t go, so Theo went, and when he came back he was different, he was afraid of the prisoners and thought they were hurting him and stuff. He said that his nervous habit was to bite his lip or play with his ears, but he didn’t rub his arm, which he does now.”

They stare at him for a long moment, and he squirms, shifting slightly, until the Healer breaks the silence. “And, your evidence for Sabaoth?”

Zander nods lightly. “Well, Mori said that Saba had the memory of an elephant, which means he remembers nearly everything, and that if he was told someone was being hurt that he would for certain tell Thaddy, maybe not at that exact moment, but he would have by the end of the day, and that he really cared about the wellbeing of the others. But he said he forgot to tell Thaddy that Theo was supposedly being hurt. If Saba had the memory of an elephant and cared about everyone, he wouldn’t have forgotten. And that Saba had always been really quiet but not like he is now.”

Raphael hums deeply, nodding slightly as he leans back, looking as though he’s mauling through his evidence.

Akriel shakes his head, and leans over, rubbing at his beard lightly. “I examined him; I wouldn’t have missed that.”

The youngling curls closer to his guardian. “How do you know to look for something if you don’t know you’re supposed to?”

Both healers look over at him again and he shrinks back slightly, ducking further into his guardian’s side, Moriah’s arm curls around him tighter.

The mental specialist sighs deeply and nods slightly. “True, very true.”

Raphael nods lightly, clapping his hands down on his knees as he stands. “I want to further investigate this.” He ruffles the youngling’s curls. “Thank you, for bringing this to my attention.”

Zander nods mutely, watching from the comfort of his guardian’s side as him and Akriel make their leave, one making their way to the Powers’ Captain’s side, and the other for Thaddeus. The Warden stands as he meets him half way, inquiring about what was going on, why the youngling had been continually looking over at them. Zander watches him look around the Archangel’s shoulder as he whispers whatever it is he’s saying to him, he shrinks back from the intensity of his first best friend’s stare, it’s scrutinizing, one that shares the message of ‘there will be no forgiveness if your accusation is unfounded’, and he flinches away, hiding himself in Moriah’s side, feeling the burn of tears coming to his eyes, he doesn’t want to lose Thaddy, Thaddy was his most bestest friend, he doesn’t want to lose him, he regrets saying anything.

Moriah pulls the quivering youngling up into his lap as the Warden approaches, Akriel scooting up to sit at the head of the bed Sabaoth lays on, Raphael leaning over to press his hands to Theo’s head.

Zander peeks out when Thaddeus squats in front of them, he shies away, curling back into Moriah, when the eyes he meets are harsh, he doesn’t understand why he would be angry, shouldn’t he be happy that someone thought that something had happened to him and that’s why he’d done what he’d done. “Zander, if your accusation is unfounded, I will never trust you again.”

The youngling gives a soft sound of distress, and the healer curls his hand around his cheek, glaring at his greatest friend. “You should be thanking him, not accusing him, if he’s right, he’d be helping your beloved Co-Warden.” He jerks his head around. “Leave us alone.”

The Warden glares at him, and he meets his glare head on, jerking his head around again, watching the man stand and leave them be.

Zander breathes a soft sob, and he looks down at him, cooing softly, soothingly. “H—He h—h—hates me, M—Mori!”

“It’s alright, little octopus, it’s alright.”

…

“Raph, what’s the diagnoses?” Thaddeus holds his Co-Warden’s hand tightly, curled between both of his, if this accusation had no findings on his poor abused little Co-Warden, he’d cut that youngling out, Theo had been hurt enough, he didn’t need anything more. “What do you see?”

“Oh, that younglings suspicions were worth looking into.” The Healer finally answers the question the younger angel had been asking for nearly fifteen minutes, his eyes glowing lightly as he pushes at the younger Co-Warden’s mind. “His mind is a mess. There’s memories, his own, good memories, overpowered by implanted memories. Think of it as a chain link fence, his memories are on one side, and the implanted memories are on the other, his mind hits those implanted memories first, hence how he is currently, sometimes his mind will be able to slip through a gap in that chain link fence, and he’ll remember his honest memories, for a brief time, before he’s pulled out again.” He smiles slightly. “He remembers that guard next to us quite fondly, I can see, most of the memories he manages to get to are of him, it’s almost as if his mind is reaching for those one’s specifically.”

Thaddeus nods. “Theo took Damabiath in when he was released, he became his guardian, he’d grown to love the little scamp, couldn’t bare to see him go.” He looks down briefly. “He forgot about him, when he came back, I was forced to give him to someone else, but he still sees Theo as his, even if he’s not fond of him right now, I know he does.”

“There’s a sense of regret and guilt, perhaps for what you’re claiming, from what I can tell, he truly loved him. Naomi’s hand has always been faulty, not as precise as Akriel’s is, she can’t numb the feelings, the emotions, not like Akriel can, he witnessed you going Damabiath another guardian, and it broke his heart, despite the necessity for you to do so was present, perhaps it was the catalyst that pushed him over the edge.” He tenses slightly. “She’s built walls around his mind, creative and impressive, but also invasive, not to say her whole ordeal isn’t, you know what I mean, she built them, and he’s strengthening them, like when he fell into that depressive state, I can feel him, but he won’t let me close enough. She’s whispering to him, lies of course, but seeing as there’s nothing else to tell him otherwise, he’s believing them. She’s very good at what she does, not as good as Akriel is, but good in her own right.”

“Raph.” Thaddeus’s tone grows sharper, Ion growls from his other side, and the Archangel shakes his head. “Don’t commend her.”

“No, you misunderstand.” Raphael shakes his head. “I’m not commending her. I’m just stating a fact. That doesn’t mean that I approve or commend her actions, she’s wrong, if I ever see her again, I will tear her down.” He hums deeply. “He’s not letting me in.”

“Can I come in, try to reason with him?”

“No, I don’t think that’ll work, he knows you didn’t know what was supposedly going on, but he’s being convinced that you did still, no, I don’t think it would be wise to bring you in.” He breaks his connection, shaking his head slightly to clear his own mind, and turns to his left. “Damabiath, can I borrow you?”

The guard raises an eyebrow at his choice of words. “Borrow me for what?”

“I need your help breaking into Theo’s mind.”

They stare at each other for a long moment.

“What?” Damabiath stares at him for another long moment. “You want my help to break into his mind?”

The Healer nods. “From what I can see, the one true constant, the one thing she was never able to change, is how he feels about you, I think out of you, Ion, and Thaddeus, you would have the best chance of getting us in.” The guard stares at him for another moment, but nods, turning to climb out of his bed. “Pull that chair over there over.”

He nods, crossing around him to grab the chair between the next to beds, and pulls it around to sit at his side. “What do I do?”

Raphael holds his right hand out to him. “Take my hand.” The guard’s small hand curls around his. “Now, press your other hand to the side of his head like this.” He guides his free hand around to lay against his head the way he needs it to be, before placing his back where he’d had it. “Now, take a deep breath, clear your head, close your eyes, and I’ll pull you in.”

Damabiath nods, takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes.

…

It’s unlike a world he’s seen before, he’s not sure how to describe it, there’s so many voices, he hears his voice, Thaddy’s voice, the voices of other prisoners, so many who have touched his life. But, there’s one, one voice that sticks out above all others, it’s soft, it’s not yelling, but the power it holds is greater than any of the other voices, spinning webs, speaking falsehoods, repeating them again and again, until it’s convincing enough, why would it be said so much if it wasn’t true.

“Come,” he looks up at the sound of the Archangel’s voice. “He’s this way.” He follows after Raphael as he leads him, around corners, it’s like a maze of gray walls. “He won’t listen to me, but perhaps he’ll listen to you.”

Damabiath follows him to a fence, it’s metal, the bars thick, like the doors of the cells in the Prison. He steps closer, to get a better look at the figure huddled inside, sitting curled up in the middle of the cell, mumbling to themselves evidence against the falsehoods they’re being convinced are true.

“Talk to him,” he looks up at the Archangel and the elder nods. “He can hear you, talk to him.”

He turns back to the figure in the cell. “Is that….”

“Yes, he’s a prisoner in his own mind, she’s controlling the environment, but he could easily take control from her, if he only believes he can.” He nudges him lightly. “Talk to him.”

The guard nods lightly, this was all so surreal, but whatever, he’d talk if he had to. He steps closer, curling his fingers around the cool bars, and licks his lips. “Theo?” He gets no response, he licks his lips again, he hasn’t called him this in years. “Papa?”

That gets him a reaction, their head snaps up, their eyes meet, cool blue meets soft hazel. “Dama?”

“Papa, can you hear me?” Damabiath presses closer to the bars. “Papa, I need you to listen to me.”

“Dama, the voice,” his guardian, he’d been his guardian, he’d always be his guardian, sounds so lost, so confused. “The voice, it’s so loud, everything’s so wrong, I want out of here.”

“Papa, listen to me, just me.” The guard inhales softly. “I need you to listen to me, it’s important, I need you to listen to me.”

“What, Dama?” Theo looks up at him again. “What’s important?”

“Papa, they’re lies.” He shakes his head. “The voice is telling you lies.”

“How….How can it be lies, it says the same thing over and over again, the prisoners hated me, they were so angry, they hated me, they were so mean to me, they—they—”

“No, papa.” Damabiath shakes his head again, cutting the elder off. “They’re lies. Everyone loved you, they loved you so much, they always wanted to talk with you and be with you, remember, when you’d take them in for their sessions, you were bad, almost as bad as Thaddy, and they’d always ask if they could lay down with you when you were finished. They loved you so much, they never hated you, they still don’t, they’re confused, they want you back, the one that they knew, they want him back.”

“I—I don’t know, Dama….” He shakes his head. “I don’t know…”

“Be stronger then her Papa!” His tone grows firmer and both elders turn to look at the typically soft spoken youth. “You’re stronger then her, you’ve always been, you know you are! You know they’re lies! You know they are! Why do you let her tell you otherwise! Thaddy choose you to be his Co-Warden, out of everyone he had at his disposal, he choose you! You need to grow a pair!”

“Damabiath, watch your tone.”

He needs to drown out the voice, if that means making him angry, then it’s his sacrifice for the greater good. “You need to stand up for yourself! Stop being so weak! You could shut her up, you could, if you wanted to! You don’t though, you let her control you, you let her do anything she wants to you!” He takes a deep breath. “Because, you’re her little bitch!”

The guard backs up as his guardian pushes himself to his feet. “How dare you speak to me like that!” His back hits the gray wall behind him as he advances slowly, walking through the bars, the cell crumbling behind him. “Who do you think you are?”

The Archangel looks away from them, as the guardian confronts his ward, surveying the land around them, as the metaphorical chain link fence snaps under the pressure, the other voices, voices from the past over powers the other, the wrong voice, the invader, color washes over the gray, memories flit around before them, real memories, the light pushing away the darkness.

Though his method was to be desired, Damabiath had done what he’d brought him here to do, and he turns back to the both of them, smiling at them, wrapped around each other.

The youth looks up at his guardian. “Papa, come back to me, I have so much to tell you, I want you to meet Sid.”

The elder smiles, brushing his curls back gently. “Sid?”

The young guard nods. “My little brother, I want you to meet him.”

Theo smiles at him. “Two boys of my own, I can settle for that.” He nods lightly. “I’ll come back to you Dama, and you best believe I’ll be coming for those armpits, I’ve missed them so much.”

…

Zander doesn’t go exploring after that, it concerns the Archangel, whom he usually goes to, and when Moriah tells him about Thaddeus’s statement, he understands, and sends a stern glare over his shoulder at the younger male.

The healer keeps his charge distracted while Theo and Sabaoth rest, whatever they’d found, it hadn’t been good, and they’d been unconscious for the last two days as they healed from whatever the two older healers had found. He keeps him distracted from the looks sent his way from the one he considers to be his bestest best friend. He keeps him distracted with tickles, boardgames, coloring, and stories.

Raphael joined in sometimes, distracting the youngling with him, lifting him up to ride on his shoulders as he went about his duties, tickling his feet every so often, letting him do experiments with Zed when he wasn’t too busy, he especially liked it when the apothecary would show him how to make things explode, and he didn’t mind the youngling sitting next to him on his workbench as he worked, listening to him chatter about whatever had come to his mind that day. Akriel would attack him with tickles, lifting him up above his head to bury his face in his belly, rubbing his beard in and blowing berry after berry, until the boy was hysterical and breathless.

And then Theo wakes up.

…

Thaddeus and Ion are up at the sound of a soft groan coming from the young Co-Warden between them, Theo reaches up slowly to rub at his head, pushing himself up slowly, curling forward as he rubs at his head again.

“Theo, baby brother?” The guard touches his arm gently. “How do you feel?”

The younger angel shakes his head slightly. “I feel…..I feel weird.”

Thaddeus presses a hand to the small of his back. “Weird how, bad weird?”

“No, not bad weird,” Theo shakes his head again, rubbing at his eyes slightly. “Like…..Like something is missing. That little voice, it used to whisper to me, it’s gone, everything feels…..different.” He looks up suddenly, turning to look at his Warden at his side. “Thaddy, what happened to Dama, is he okay?”

The Warden frowns slightly. “Dama?”

“Yea, Dama, is he okay, I’d just finished his session, and went to see what Naomi wanted.” He lowers the hand that had been rubbing at his head. “He was scared, he told me not to go, I told him everything would be alright, and I’d be back for those armpits, and then…..” He shakes his head. “And then things changed, I never came back for those armpits, I didn’t see him again, is he okay?”

Thaddeus nods, gesturing over Ion’s side. “Yea, his bed’s right there.”

Theo turns, leaning forward to see around his older brother, to the guard laying in the bed next to them. That’s right, he remembers, things are fuzzy, but he remembers, Dama’s a guard now, he’s grown up, somewhat, he’s still younger then him. “Dama?”

The guard looks over at the call of his name, sitting up to see who it was that had called, eyes widening as the Co-Warden climbs over the guard for him. “Theo?”

“Dama, I’m so sorry.” He can’t help but lean away from him, Sid leans away too when he leans into him, but he keeps coming, pulling him forward again, and Damabiath yelps when he’s suddenly pulled into the Co-Warden’s arms. “I said I’d come back for those armpits and I never did.”

The guard falls still, he remembers him saying that, it had made him giggle hysterically, Theo had tortured his armpits when he was a prisoner.

He sits stiffly in his arms, the older male curled around him, just encase he wasn’t really himself. “’Eo?”

“It’s me little guy, it’s me, I don’t really remember what happened, but it’s me.” He squeezes him closer. “I missed those armpits so much!” He reaches down, curling his fingers around the guard’s left wrist. “Can I see one, just one?”

Damabiath starts slightly when he feels fingers curl around his wrist, and he can’t help but smile as he’s slowly pushed back down. “Papa, no!”

The older angel smiles. “I missed being called ‘papa’.” Damabiath struggles against it, but he slowly manages to lift his arm, slowly but surely. “Just a peek, just a little itty bitty peek?”

“No! No peeks!” He tries to cover his armpit with his other hand, but the Co-Warden blocks it with his shoulder, giggling frantically when his arm’s completely raised. “Papa, no!”

“It’s just as I remember it,” Theo leans in closer. “Is it still the same as it was?”

“Papa!”

“Let me test it out.” The young guard squeals brightly when he buries his face in his armpit and blows a long hard raspberry, once, then twice, three times, and then he pulls away, smiling down at the giggling mess in his wake. “It is as it was, I’m so happy!”

Thaddeus smiles at the pair of them, watching Damabiath introduce his Co-Warden to Sidriel, the little guard is so happy that his guardian is himself again. He attention turns elsewhere, to his friend and his boy sleeping across the way, Moriah’s back is to him, as though to block the youngling from catching sight of him, and he heaves a deep sigh. “I messed up.”

Ion turns to look at his Warden. “How?”

The older angel gestures to the healer and his boy sleeping a few beds down and across the aisle from them. “I told Zander that if his accusations were unfounded that I’d never trust him again.”

The guard stares at him. “How could you, Thaddeus, that boy adores you.”

“I know, I know,” Thaddeus rubs at his face with his hands. “I just didn’t want Theo to get hurt again if he was wrong.”

“Zander wouldn’t hurt a fly, you know that, if anyone’s broken anyone’s trust, it’s probably his trust in you.”

He turns to look at his guard. “Ion, what should I do, I don’t want to lose him.”

Ion rubs at his head lightly. “I’d say go climb in bed with him, be there when he first wakes up, say you’re an idiot and beg for his forgiveness.”

“I am an idiot.”

“I know you are, but you have to admit it to him too.”

He glares at him for a moment, but says nothing, he’s right, he is an idiot. “Will you two be alright?”

Ion waves a hand at him. “We’ll be just fine, besides, Theo’s made himself comfortable between Sid and Dama, so I think I’ll be sleeping alone, you go see your kid.”

Thaddeus nods in appreciation, and slips out of bed, padding softly down the aisle to the subject of their conversation. Zander’s a deep sleeper, he doesn’t so much as flinch when he slides in behind him, Moriah opens his eyes though, as a healer, he’s used to being awakened suddenly.

They stare at each other for a long minute. “If you break his heart again, I’ll make it look like an accident.”

The Warden gulps softly at his threat, if anyone could tear him down and make it look like an accident, it would be him. “I’m so sorry, Moriah.”

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to.” Moriah settles back down. “Don’t wake him up, he hasn’t been sleeping well, because he thinks his bestest best friend hates him now.”

….

Zander isn’t sure what he expects when he wakes up that morning, he knows he’s going to be tucked into a strong warm chest, with strong arms wrapped around him, so he thinks nothing of it when he yawns and rubs his eyes as he wakes. He does not, however, remember Mori wearing a maroon shirt to bed last night.

Slowly he raises his head, eyes skimming up over the beard, up over the face, and he stares. “Thaddy?”

The man sleeping with him chokes on a soft snore and his eyes blink open. “Zan?”

The youngling licks his lips. “Thaddy, I’m sorry, we’re still friends, right?”

“Oh, Zan, no, no, I’m sorry.” He hugs him close for a moment. “I should have never have treated you like that, I’m so sorry, I’m a big idiot.” He lets him go, well, loosens his grip. “Can you ever forgive this idiot?”

Zander giggles. “I forgive you, you idiot.”

“Oh, thank you, baby octopus, thank you!” He squeezes him in close, pressing him to his chest, and the youngling giggles again. “What are we going to do today?”

“I dunno!”

“How about we start with breakfast.” They both look over at the sound of the healer’s voice, Moriah smiles at them, he must have gotten up to bathe, and carefully turned his charge around to cuddle up with Thaddeus while he was away, his hair was damp, you could tell it was, up in a bun on his head, and in his hands he holds a tray for them. “Good morning, my little octopus, Thaddy.”

Zander sits up, setting Bubbles in his lap, stretching widely as he awakens officially for the day, somewhat, he might go back to sleep after breakfast, it just depends on his he feels at the time. “What’s for breakfast, Mori?”

The healer sets their tray down on his bed side table. “Waffles and fruit.”

“I love waffles and fruit!”

They both chuckle at the young angel’s excitement. “You love everything.”

“I know!”

Moriah passes him a plate to pass to the Warden, then one for himself, and sits next to him in the bed before reaching for his own. “So, what are we doing today?”

Zander shrugs and picks up a piece of waffle. “I dunno.” He plops it in his mouth and chews happily, happy that his bestest best friend doesn’t hate him, and he’s right there, he can feel him right next to him. “I think I might be sleepy still so I might go back to sleep.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yep.” The youngling eats another bite of waffle. “I just feel it.”

“I see,” Moriah takes a bite of his own waffle. “Are we still feeling sleepy too?”

He nods lightly. “Yea, you’re feeling sleepy too.”

Thaddeus hums after he swallows a bite of his waffle. “Now that you mention it, I’m still a bit sleepy too.”

“Push over.” Moriah mutters, but he hears him, and glares lightly. “I am too, little octopus.”

“Who’s the push over now, Moriah?”

Zander giggles as he swallows a strawberry. “You are.”

“You little brat.” The Warden pokes a finger into his side playfully and the youngling giggles, leaning away from him as best as he can. “Only for you.”

“Because, I’m your favorite.”

Thaddeus snorts. “You’re not my favorite.” He shakes his head. “I don’t pick favorites.”

“But, if you did, it’d be me.”

The healer next to him hums. “Who’s your favorite, Zan, me or Thaddy?”

Zander pouts up at him. “That’s not fair, Mori, I love you both a lot!”

“But, if you had to pick, who would it be?”

He huffs and looks back to his fruit. “Neither of you, Raph would be my favorite.”

“Oh, really,” the three of them look up at his voice, and the Archangel smiles down at them, his arms folded behind his back, he’d been passing by when he’d heard his name and the youngling’s claim. “Why would I be your favorite.”

“Because, you don’t ask me who my favorite is.”

“No, I do not.” Raphael laughs at the two elders expressions and nods. “You’d be my favorite too, Zan.”

Chapter Text

It was late into the night, the night sky rumbling with thunder, rain pelting down over them, as they made their trek down the dark street, holding onto the hands of terrified little fledglings, shivering from either the chill or their fear, or perhaps a bit of both. Every little sound outside of the rain and thunder made them jump, eyes searching for the source, to see if someone was going to jump out at them, capture them on their trek, and taken them to the Prison, where Sampson would do as he pleased with whom he pleased, they’d all willingly go, if it meant that their fledglings were safe and sound within his Infirmary.

They’re barefoot, the nine of them, not wanting anyone who might be around them to hear the thumping of boots as they walked, the stone street was cold and wet under foot, they’re all soaked, freezing, this time of year was much to cool to be wondering around barefoot and wet, their breath condensed right before them in light clouds as they breathed.

The doors are still open, they can see it from the bottom of the steps, as they slowly make their way up, not wanting to move to quickly for the fledglings making the trek with them. The light from inside spills out across the stone veranda, it encompasses them as they crest the last stair. Healers are there, preparing to close the doors, when they spot them, their eyes widening, there are no guards standing there to foul up their journey, to their surprise, though there’s a rumor that he’s been collecting them that’s been spreading around.

They stare at them; two Grigori, one Choir Instructor, and six choir fledglings, as they come to stand in the door way.

Semyaza squeezes the two small hands in his own. “Take us in?”

The one healer turns to look at the other, and she turns, darting off, leaving them standing there in the cold rain as she disappears.

The other turns back to them. “Sorry, he says not to let people inside without his permission, you know, because of—”

Azazel nods. “We know.”

“Come in,” they look over at his voice, as he jogs down the main aisle, waving them in with his hand. “Come in, out of the rain, it’s freezing out there.”

The three elders smile at him as they step in with their fledglings, far enough inside for the two healers to push the doors closed and lock them for the night.

The six little fledglings stare up at him as he comes to stand before them, and he smiles down at them all. “Hello, little ones.” Raphael turns his attention up to their three guides. “Semyaza, Azazel, I would have thought you’d have been cast out with the others.”

Semyaza nods lightly, sharing a glance with his brother. “Azazel and I are good at blending in.” His brother nods, and he turns back to the Archangel. “I couldn’t leave Jeremiah to those beasts unprotected.” Azazel nods in agreement. “I couldn’t leave you, Raph.”

The Healer nods, smiling at the two of them, and gestures to the six fledglings. “These are the only fledglings I’ve seen since this whole thing started; do you know where the others might be?”

Semyaza and Azazel turn to the third member of their party and Jeremiah nods mutely. “They were taken from us, with the rest of our Flock, we only managed to gather the six of them because they were stragglers in the pack, where they took them, I do not know.” The instructor shakes his head lightly. “I should have done more.” His older brother let’s go of one of the fledglings hands to curl his fingers around the back of his neck soothingly. “I should have fought them.”

“Nonsense, they would have beaten you down and taken you with them.” Raphael shakes his head firmly. “You did the best you could have possibly done, bringing these six was more then enough, it’s more then others would have done.” He turns, gesturing for them to follow. “Come, you must be freezing, we’ll get baths drawn up for your fledglings while you three go back to the washroom and bathe, your beds will be next to the Powers.” He leads them to the row of beds resting empty to the left of the Powers, their fledglings whine softly at the thought of parting from their protectors, and curl their other hands in their pant legs, hiding behind them slightly, and he smiles, squatting slightly. “We’ll take good care of you until they return, would you like some hot chocolate after your baths?”

The six little ones smile at the thought of something rich like hot chocolate, and nod slightly, he smiles at them. “Will you trust me to get you all cleaned up and nice and warm again?” They nod again, slowly letting go of their protectors, stepping forward carefully, as he stands, two of them taking his hands, and the remaining four curling around his legs. “Thank you, little ones.”

…

They push their beds together upon returning, two of them laying on the edges, and one of them in the middle, their fledglings sitting happily at the sippy cups filled with hot chocolate, hot, but not too hot. The six of them lay between them, silent as the night, sipping away happily. Jeremiah reaches over the bed for his older brother’s hand, a sense of comfort fills him when Semyaza’s fingers curl through his, his thumb rubbing at the back of his hand.

They’d made it, they got their fledglings to safety, and they got to stay with them.

The nine of them stay in the beds for the next couple of days, the fledglings not wanting them to leave just yet, to part from them, and three of them take up residency in their laps as though to ensure they stay put.

Jeremiah plays with the small hands resting in his lightly, humming under his breath. “I am surrounded, on every side, can’t see the light of day. But I am persuaded, beyond all hope, you won’t let go of me, I stake my claim, on every word You say, You will not be late,” his two brothers smile as the fledglings grow captivated by their instructors song, the Powers and their young ones falling quiet next to them, it had been some time since anyone had heard a choir angel sing. “I will sing through fire and thunder, Cause you are on my side, I trust You with my life, I know my story, it isn’t over, Even against all odds, You are a faithful God, You’re faithful God.”

Semyaza smiles, his baby brother’s voice has a calming effect, it’s soft, gentle, flowing like the breeze through the tree tops, he picks up where he left off. “The darkest of weather, Though I can’t see, I still believe You’re good, So I’m moving forward, Through crashing waves, I know I’m safe with You, You hold my life, You hear my cry, With every breath inside,” some tend to forget the Grigori are a part of the choir, they’re so quiet, it’s rare to catch them humming loud enough to be heard, let alone voicing a song for them to hear. Semyaza’s voice is deep, but it’s smooth, like the rumble of thunder that echoes before the storm comes, eyes look up from across from them, they remain unseen as the choir elders focus on their fledglings, the passing healers that fall still to listen to them go unnoticed, their audience that’s building goes unnoticed. “I will sing through fire and thunder, Cause you are on my side, I trust you with my life, I know my story, it isn’t over, Even against all odds, You are a faithful God, That’s who You are, You are a faithful God.”

“I am convinced, That your promises will hold together, And I will dwell, In the hope of your love forever, I am convinced, That your promises will hold together, and I will dwell in your love,” Azazel picks up after his Captain, drawing the attention of his Archangel, he may be in Lucifer’s Flock, but the Healer would always be his Archangel, though he doesn’t see him watching, too focused on the fledgling hold into his hands, and the other sitting in his lap. “I will sing through fire and thunder, Cause you are on my side, I trust you with my life, I know my story, It isn’t over, Even against all odds, You are a faithful God, That’s who you are, You are a faithful God…..” The fledgling holding his hands smiles and finishes. “You’re a faithful God.”

They look up when they notice the silence around them, and Azazel breaks the tension building at their audience. “What, do I got something on my face?”

…

They knew it was bound to happen again eventually, for a confrontation between the two Archangels, opposing forces, neither one to be trifled with, and at each other’s throats, Michael a raging force, a war horse, taking down anyone who he perceived as being against him, and Raphael, as wild as the weather, as strong as the wind, as powerful as a bolt of lightning in a raging storm, a fiercely protective force, taking in anyone who come to escape Michael’s wrath.

He doesn’t come alone, Sampson’s at his side, what remains of his guards behind him, under the orders to round up everyone, for Sampson to punish as he sees fit, his warriors at his back, weapons drawn, not afraid to draw blood if they were met with resistance.

Sidriel and Damabiath scoot over the side of their beds when their eyes meet, the maliciousness in the new Warden’s eyes can be felt physically, and they know, they know they’re the first ones he’ll deal with if they go back. Sidriel grasps his brother’s hand tightly, Damabiath squeezes his hand just as tightly, their view blocked as Theo and Thaddeus step in front of them, the prison guards, Thaddeus’s prison guards come to stand before the prisoners protectively, they’re weaponless, but far from defenseless.

The Powers rise, they did not come weaponless, and they gather at the foot of their beds, weapons in hand, their young ones huddled behind them.

Gadreel sobs into his hand at the sight of Sampson, scooting back over the edge of his bed, crawling backwards until he hit’s Abner’s bed, and his hand curls into the back collar of his shirt, Sabaoth and Osmadiel stepping in front of them protectively.

The other guards rise, standing before the rest, the healers and the younglings, everyone waiting on baited breath for the battle that Michael had brought to rage with him.

In front of them all, standing at the ready, are the Virtues, vowing to protect their patients to their dying breath, and they’ll have to be struck down before they get to them intending them harm.

Michael eyes them all darkly. “Get them all, every single one of them, they’re all traitors to Heaven, to the Host, and to me.”

The guards and warriors rush forward, the Virtues raise their weapons, and the sky above them rumbles violently, a brilliant strike of lightning makes contact just behind them, and the resounding thunder shakes the building.

The thirdborn making his appearance. “You wouldn’t dare.” Raphael stalks down the main aisle, his bow in hand, they, his patients, part for him as he makes his way down, electricity swirling around him dangerously, the building shakes again as thunder rumbles loudly around them. “If you so much as breathe on them, I will cut you down, just because I’m a healer, does not mean that I will not shed blood.”

“Raphael.” The oldest growls lowly, stalking forward, to meet his younger brother half way, and they all watch the two Archangels size each other up, Michael was taller and older, but Raphael could be more violent if prompted. “You dare to betray me.”

The younger Archangel grips his bow tighter, his brother was either too sure of himself or cocky, to come unarmed, he was not above striking down an unarmed man if they came with the intent to harm what was his. “You betrayed yourself, Michael, when you turned against who you are, you are the lionheart, the Protector, Lucifer may have been the one to doom humanity, you called him a monster, but you, you are the only monster I see.”

“You dare steal from me?”

“It’s not theft if they come willingly.” Raphael pushes him back sharply. “They came to me willingly, all I did was offer them a bed and a hot meal, a change of clothes, a bath, and they flocked to me.”

“You’ve overstepped your boundaries, you are a healer, nothing more.” Michael forces him back a step. “I’ve allowed this little game of yours to play long enough, you will return what’s mine, or I will cut you down.”

“I am an Archangel, too, Michael, and it would do you well to remember that.” He forces the elder back another step. “You may be older, you may be stronger then I, but me, I am the dangerous one. Even in your darkest moments, you could never surpass me, you are a one trick pony, your element is fire, I, I am the weather, I am the rain that floods nations, I am the storms, I am the lightning and the thunder, I am the wind, I am the hurricane that destroys cities, I am the tornado that uproots thousands of lives, it is my storms that put out the wildfires, so if you’re going to strike me down, you’d best be sure I stay down, because if I get back up, I will strike back, with much more force then you can imagine.”

Michael glares down at him, his hands smoking as he struggles to keep his rage in check, as to not lash out at his younger brother, Raphael would get over it, he didn’t grow attached to everyone, not even he had that much care to give. “I am taking them, they will face the consequences of their actions, and you will be taught what it means to be a proper Archangel.”

Raphael meets his glare. “Like you taught Theo to shy away from kindness, how you taught Thaddeus to be a proper Warden, like you taught Sabaoth to be a proper guard?”

Thaddeus’s eyes widen at the declaration at the same time Nisroc’s does.

The oldest Archangel stares down at the younger, rage still glows in his eyes, but there’s surprise there as well, and the Healer nods sharply. “Did you think I wouldn’t put two and two together?” He pushes him back with a hand to the chest. “Naomi is far from being a victim, I know she did your bidding far too willingly, but she did her work under your orders. Does it make you proud, Michael, do you feel stronger, knowing that you brainwashed two of yours, and because of that, you tortured one of your former charges?”

“He was a traitor to the—”

“You’re the traitor to the Host! You’re a deceiver!” Raphael steps forward another step. “You’re worse than Lucifer, at least he did what he thought was best for the Host, but you, you do what’s best for you.” He catches Sampson by the collar and shoves him back. “You stay away from my patients, or so help me god, there will be nothing left for them to put back together.” He turns his attention back to his older brother. “You can take them over my dead body, you’ll have to strike me down before you can.”

Michael grinds his teeth. “Rapha—”

“Are you hesitating?” The thirdborn muses darkly. “You are, well, brother, let me inform you, if you try and take any of them from me, I will have no such hesitation in striking you down.” He lifts his bow slightly. “Now, I will give you to the count of three, to get out of my domain, or I will have no hesitation in cutting you down where you stand, I can save a life just as easily as I can take one.”

Michael stares him down mutely.

He reaches behind himself for an arrow. “One.”

His older brother doesn’t budge, as though attempting to call his bluff.

The thirdborn curls his fingers around the shaft of his arrow. “Two.”

Michael huffs, when he finds nothing in his brother’s stance or glare that gives way to any sort of bluff he could call him on. “This isn’t over, Raphael, if you stand as my enemy, then I will treat you as one.”

Raphael stares up at him. “I could say the same.” The oldest eyes him one last time before turning, gesturing for those he brought with him to follow, guards, those who had come with Sampson, eye their friends, their brothers, standing within the Healer’s domain, and he lowers his bow, eyeing them as well. “You could join them, I offer you the same as I did them, you’re all welcome.” He eyes the few warriors that remained back. “That goes for you all as well.”

He smiles, watching his brother’s back tense, when the guards and warriors drop their swords, and step inside.

All you had to do was offer them a bit of kindness and they came willingly. “Come,” he turns, gesturing for them to follow from over his shoulder, nodding at his Virtues to close the doors and lock them, leading their new intakes down the aisle. “You’ll get your bath first, we’ll make you up beds, and then you’ll have a nice hot meal.” He watches the others slowly climb back into the beds, Theo laying himself in between Sidriel and Damabiath, holding them close, Thaddeus helping Gadreel back into his bed, laying between him and Abner, holding them close too, the Powers gathering around their young ones, offering comfort, and holding the ones who ask to be held, Thaddeus’s prison guards climbing into bed with the prisoners to offer them the comfort they needed.

“Just in through there,” he gestures to the archway. “There’s clean clothes in there, take a bath, take as long as you need, and change into some clean clothes. We’ll show you to your beds when you’re done.”