Fallen Angel

Chapter 35.1

He feared none of it had happened. He feared he was still in the Dream Realm, trapped in another vision conjured up by Lucifer. But the Devil drew from memories and current events. And even with his life force slipping further every minute, Michael was certain he had never had his wings torn out.
Blinding, searing pain travelled through the Archangel's body. The pain was good, though. It was proof this was all real. But it also made Michael wish he were dead. He wanted to scream, but he was too exhausted. He saw nothing but shadows about him. All that kept him from giving in and succumbing to the sweet relief of death were the voices.
Michael heard Raphael's voice, agitated yet controlled. Then a woman's, young and strong but nervous. The smell of clean sheets and herbs invaded him as he was laid face down on a bed. So did the tangent, coppery smell of blood. A lot of blood — his blood. It stuck to his body. How much had he lost? Enough to know that, had he been human, he would have already been dead.

"Cate, clear away this blood; I can't see what I'm doing."

Why is Catherine helping Raphael? Where is Isabelle? The Nephilim... She must be with them. God Almighty, please do not let them die, I beg of you.

"What do we do about his wings?" asked Catherine.

"I don't know yet. But if we don't get this bleeding under control, he won't have any use for them, anyway. If I can just — oh, damn it all, I can't get these veins properly clamped! Isabelle, where are you when I need you?"

"Rafe! Where's Mi—what the hell happened?!"

Gabriël... You made it back.

"The Blood Countess used her magic on him," said Raphael.

"Tell me he's going to live, Raphael," urged Gabriël. "Tell me you can fix this!"

"I am trying, Gabriël! But I have never had an angel on my table with their wings ripped out! It's a miracle he's still alive! I don't even know how to — wait, what are you doing? Gabriël, no!"

As soon as Michael felt the cold steel of a blade against the flesh of his torn back, his heart raced wildly, almost bursting out of his chest. The little blood left in his veins was set aflame. Michael's body contracted, and his mind felt ready to explode from the excruciating pain.
Then, all of a sudden, the burning agony changed into an amazing warmth. Comforting. Healing. It enveloped Michael completely, and the Archangel felt at peace for the first time in a very long time. He felt alive. He felt... him.

***

Gabriël drew Michael's sword, pushing Raphael aside and ignoring Catherine's protests. He placed the blade over the wound, and powerful blue flames spread across Michael's body. The Archangel's unconscious state was a blessing. Gabriël had felt the flames of Heaven's Fire not once but twice, and it was the most agonising physical pain he had ever been in. Raphael fought him to take the sword away, but soon, they were both transfixed by the miraculous thing happening before his eyes — Michael's body and wings were healing.
The blood that had been spilt and stuck to Michael's skin slowly trickled into his body. The flesh of his open back stitched together somehow. But his wings, mangled beyond repair, were the most amazing sight of all. A blue glow enveloped them, fading as the ruined feathers fell to the floor, blackened from Heaven's Fire. The ones that grew in their stead were shining ivory, the most beautiful and mesmerising Gabriël had ever seen.

When the flames died out, Michael's body was whole again. Gabriël hesitantly touched him with the tip of his fingers, finding his skin unnaturally cool. He bent over Michael and whispered, "You do not get to die. Not after everything we have done for you, and not before you fix the mess you made, you hear me? We need you to set things right. I... I need you to..."