#cdta

The staging ground was silent save for the distant roar of Lucifer's fury. Raphael could feel it reverberating beneath his feet, could taste the electricity in the air. His hands trembled as he organized his healing powers for the third time. Fourth time? He'd lost count.

"Raphael."

Michael's voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. His brother stood at the edge of the platform, his armor already manifesting in plates of light across his shoulders and chest. He looked so certain. So unbearably certain.

"I'm listening," Raphael said, though his gaze drifted past Michael to where the sky had turned an ugly, bruised purple. Where Lucifer waited, alone now, after the other six fell. Such clinical words for what had happened to their siblings.

Michael turned fully to face him, and Raphael flinched at the weight of those unwavering eyes. "You're not listening. You're catastrophizing."

"I-" Raphael's jaw worked uselessly. His upper hands clasped together while his lower pair hung limp at his sides. "How can you tell?"

"You do this thing with your hands. Always have." Michael's expression softened, just slightly. "And your wings are tucked so tight you'll give yourself cramps."

Raphael forced himself to relax his wings. The broad, rounded feathers rustled as they expanded slightly, though they still pressed closer to his back than they should. "I can't stop thinking about-" He cut himself off. Breathed. Tried again. "Luci could have used me as leverage, could have… but he didn't. He told me-"

His voice cracked. Another sharp breath.

"…told me he loved me. That he was sorry I had to see what Heaven had become."

Michael was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice had lost its commanding edge. "I know."

"Do you?" Raphael's words came out sharper than intended. He pressed his fingertips to his temples, feeling the arrival of a headache. "Because I keep thinking… what if there was another way? What if I could have talked to him before it got this far-"

"There wasn't." Michael closed the distance between them in three strides. His lower hands found Raphael's lower wrists. "Raph. Look at me."

Raphael did, reluctantly. His vision blurred at the edges.

"You were a pacifist," Michael said gently. Too gently. "You still are, in your heart. That's who you are. But this…" He gestured to the darkening sky, to the sound of destruction rolling across Heaven alongside thunder. "This was always going to end this way. The moment Lucifer raised his hand against the Lord, the moment he refused to stop-"

"I know." Raphael's voice was barely a whisper. "I know it's necessary. That doesn't make it hurt less."

"It shouldn't." Michael's grip tightened. "If it stopped hurting, we'd be no better than what we're fighting against."

Another tremor shook the ground, closer this time. Raphael could sense Lucifer's energy signature, once so familiar, now twisted with cruelty and something else. Maybe grief.

"I'm afraid," Raphael admitted, the words feeling like glass in his throat. "I'm afraid you'll be hurt. I'm afraid of what this will do to you, having to be the one who…" He couldn't finish.

"I know." Michael's other hands came up to grip Raphael's other wrists, holding him steady, as if he were to fall at any moment. "I'm afraid too."

That startled Raphael enough that his eyes focused properly. "You are?"

"Of course I am." Michael's eyes were sad, worn at the edges. "I'm about to fight my brother. My brightest, beloved brother…" He stopped. Swallowed hard. "But someone has to do this. And it can't be you."

"Why not?" The question came out plaintive, almost childish.

"Because you're the one who has to put us back together afterward." Michael's hands slid down to grasp Raphael's own, squeezing firmly just once. "You're the healer, Raph, you always have been. I'm the sword, Gabriel is the messenger and Uriel is the fire. But you- you're what keeps us from becoming monsters in the name of necessity."

Raphael felt something cold slide down his cheek. He didn't bother wiping it away. "What if it doesn't work? What if-"

"Trust me," Michael interrupted. His tone was final, certain in a way that Raphael desperately wanted to believe in. "This will work."

"How can you be sure?"

Michael was quiet for a moment, his gaze distant. When he spoke, his words were careful. "Because it has to. Because the alternative is watching Heaven fall apart. Because Lucifer won't stop until someone makes him. And because…" He paused, his jaw working. "Because I love him too. And sometimes love means knowing limits."

Raphael's breath hitched. His upper hands came up to cover his face as a sob tried to claw its way out of his chest. Michael pulled him forward into an embrace, armor and all, wings folding around them both like a shield against the world.

"I've got you," Michael murmured against his hair. "I've got you, and I've got this. I promise."

"Don't promise things you can't control," Raphael said, muffled against Michael's shoulder.

"Then trust that I'll do everything in my power to make it true."

They stood there for a breath, two breaths, three, however long they could steal before duty called them forward. Raphael memorized the feeling: Michael's heartbeat, his presence, the knowledge that whatever happened next, they were in this together. The four of them. No Lord to guide them, no divine voice to absolve them of any responsibility.

Just siblings trying to save what was left of their home.

Finally, Raphael pulled back. He scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand, then straightened his posture. His wings mantled once, twice, settling into proper position. "Okay," he said, his voice was still thick, but steadier. "Okay. I trust you."

Michael's smile was small but genuine. "That's all I need, Raph."

He turned toward the edge of the platform, toward where Lucifer's rage painted the sky in shades of crimson. His sword materialized in his hand, blazing with holy light.

"Michael," Raphael called out.

His brother glanced back.

"Come back," Raphael said simply. "Both of you. Whatever happens, just come back."

Michael's expression flickered with something unreadable. "I'll do my best."

Then he was gone, launching himself into the storm with wings spread wide, burning in every line of his body. Raphael watched him go, his hands clasped so tightly his knuckles had gone blue.