Okay so this could kind of be seen as a precursor to my fic "Dominus Tecum" which is a Dean/Jo/Archangel extravaganza but it can also stand alone. THis season of supernatural has just been awesome and I have a sibling so I love the big brother-little brother relationship. (I'm the big) But I wanted to show a bit of the relationship in my head between Michael and Gabriel. Because Gabriel's awesome and Michael was too.

The decrepitness of the place brought a smile to his lips.

Looking at the worn down building, Michael coudn't help but be amused. Of all the countless exotic places he could be, of all the hundreds of manisons he could have bought, he had chosen a small, run down apartment building in the middle of a small, nondescript town. Despite the building looking old, Michael had no doubt that he had not been there very long--nor would he remain in sucha place. He had always had a nomadic streak in him. It would have been easier if he still had wings, but Michael had no doubt he would be more than capable of flying wherever he wished to go. No wings, but no bonds either. No burdens to drag him down or keep him in one place. In a strange way, Michael envied him for his freedom. Him standing there was done on borrowed time. Mary Winchester was unconscious in bed and soon John Winchester would need to be back with her, both their memories gone. But for this night, for this moment, Michael had found a way to walk the earth without bringing harm to a Vessel unable to contain his powers.

Slowly Michael walked up to the door of the building. A quick turn of the worn brass handle revealed it to be unlocked. A smile pulled at his lips. He should have known that caution would have no place here. Opening the door, he stepped into a hallway that looked more like something out of a nightmare than he would have thought. Still even in the flicker of the sickly yellow light, the blues and greens of the wall were familiar, comforting even. Michael stepped foward, not caring at the sound John Winchester's worn boots made againts the cheap concrete of the floor. Three steps took him to a door, also unlocked. Opening it, Michael stepped into a small staircase. There was no light in this room but that did not bother him as he made his way up the steep, narrow stairs, taking care to avoid the broken banister. Large injuries would be easy for him to heal but he did not wish to pick splinters out of John Winchester's fingers. Arriving on the third floor, Michael pushed open the door to reveal an almost identical hallway. On this floor he could hear the faint echo of a tv and smell something cooking. Knowing he was in the right place, Michael let the door swing gently shut behind him.

He heard movement down the hall in an almost immediate response to the door shutting. It would have been easy to use his powers to get there undetected but that was not why he was there. He wanted to be detected, wanted to be known by the reason he was there. Though if he had gotten up a hallway and through a staircase without altering them to his presence, then something was not right. A cold knot settled in his stomach. What if he was hurt? Or what if Lucifer or one of the other Demons had gotten to him first? He had faith in his Brother but it had been so long since he had been in Heaven, long enough that his once formidible skils may have laxed. And if they did, while their Father was gone and they were in the middle of the War to end all Wars, then he very well could be in trouble. Before Michael could step forward, before he could close the distance between them either on foot or by his power, the figure emerged from an open doorway at the end of the hall. Disheveled was one way to describe him, possibly drunk was another. Dressed in shorts and a white t-shirt, to any passerby he would have looked like a man one would expect to find the place they both stood.

But to Michael, who had not laid eyes on him in hundreds of years, he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Relief melted the ice in his stomach as surprise shown on his features. Vessels did their purpose but for those who knew how to look, the true form always shone through. Michael saw him, not as he appeared to be but as he truly was. Not the dishevled figure who looked as though he belonged in the run down place but as the Archangel who looked as though he belonged in the Heaven he had so easily and wilingly left behind. Seemingly too stunned to move, Michael compensated by walking forward himself until he stood in front of the other Archangel.

"Hello, Gabriel," he said.

Gabriel had known, from the day he'd left Heaven, that he was living on borrowed time. Toeing the line with debauchery and indulgence had been a great way to deter any Angelic interactions while remaining on the other side ensured no Demons got the wrong idea. But he'd known it was only a matter of time. And somewhere deep down he'd known that it would eventually be Michael who came to him. Michael who'd brave fire and brimstone and Satan himself if he thought that meant he could save Lucifer. He'd felt activity that night, powerful shit too but he'd ignored it. Hopefully they'd get whatever the fuck they were there for and they'd leave. It wasn't hiding, it was just not engaging. But of course Michael would be the one damn Archangel to go the extra mile and come find him. He was more shocked that Michael was there in a Vessel that actually seemed stable than his at his actual presence. Even for a mind like Gabriel's it took a minute to put the pieces together. When he did, he couldn't help but grin.

"You know you're a generation early right? I mean you're supposed to be in lil'Winchester. Whatcha doin? Tryin to get 'em early?"

"It is nice to see you too, Gabriel," Michael said, gently reminding the younger Archangel of the manners he had seemed to have forgotten.

"Yeah, yeah, come on," Gabriel said motioning him to follow, "This hallway gives me the creeps."

Surprised at the lack of a fight, Michael chose not to push his luck and followe Gabriel a bit down the hallway. Michael looked at the run down room Gabriel was leading him into and felt, not for the first time that night, a bit off put by the mess and dirt he saw. He could still hear the television and smell the food cooking but the sight of the mess made him pause. Heedless of it--or, worse, used to it--Gabriel walked to the doorway. Not wanting to be rude, Michael followed right behind him. Both crossed the threshold of the room and found themselves in a completely different location. Michael looked down at the expensive suite he now wore, seemingly tailor made to John Winchester's lithe body, before looking up at the restaurant he found himself in. It became clear the the sounds he heard were not those of a television anymore than the food he had smelled was being cooked by Gabriel's hand. Turning to look at his brother, he saw Gabriel was dressed just as fine. In clothing that befit the expensive place they now found themselves in.

"Gabriel where are we?" Michael questioned, looking at his brother.

"At a restaurant, thought that would've been kinda obvious," he shook his head, "seriously you need to get out more."

"Gabriel--" Michael began.

"Mr. Joseph," a man in a stiff necked suite said, "your table is ready. Follow me."

"I suppose," Michael said, "it was wishful thinking of me to assume you would be cooking."

"Its your own fault. You kow what happens when you assume. You make an a--"

"Do not continue that sentance," Michael ordered as they got to the table.

It was not as though eating was a necessity for either of them. Vessels might feel hunger but it was far more their minds than the actual need to eat. Still from the way the man seated them promptly and smiled at Gabriel as he bowed out, the Archangel not only ate, he did so quite often. It was a complete indulgence on his part, but, then again, Gabriel had never really been one to deny himself. From the glances a few women were giving them, they were most likely not inside Gabriel's head. If they were, Michael knew the women would be doing much more than looking at them. As if sensing his thoughts, Gabriel chuckled and shook his head. Michael's eyes went right to him and, for reasons he could not quite explain, he felt embarassment color his cheeks.

"So you gonna tell me why you're here? I know you ain't just looking for me."

"I did not need to look hard," Michael told him. Gabriel raised an eyebrow, "Anna Milton is dead," Gabriel's eyes widened but he did not interupt.

At his silence, the story spilled out of Michael's lips faster than he would have liked. He told Gabriel of how Anna Milton had 'escaped' from the Heavenly Prison and come to earth, visiting Dean and Castiel before going back in time to prevent the birth of Lucifer's Vessel. He told him how he had learned of what happened and how he had gone to the Prison to find he door had been tampered with. He had gone to earth and found John Winchester broken, helpless and more than willing to do what his son would so ardently refuse. He related how he had burned Anna as only he could do and sent Uriel back to Heaven without so much as breaking a sweat. Throughout the tale, Gabriel was silent. While legend had always painted him as God's messenger, the bearer of his word, Gabriel ha always been a very adept listener as well. Michael brought the tale to the moment he banished Uriel before stopping.

"And so how'd the lil'WInchester take meeting you for the first time?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Michael was silent for a moment, "oh come on man, I might not know the future but I sure as hell know you're here and that means the sword said no. Actually, scratch that, he probably told you to go fuck yourself, right?"

"Not me," Michael said, "but yes, the message was clear."

Gabriel threw back his head and laughed. Michael stared at his brother. This was the Gabriel of this time, a younger version of the Archangel that now roamed the world. In thirty or so years, Michael knew Gabriel would be far better at hiding himself. Perhaps other things about him would be different as well. He knew the signs that would herald the apocolypse, of course, but even so perhaps one had to see them to find the seriousness in it. At the moment Gabriel actually seemed amused. Amused that his true Vessel had refused--and refused in crude, human language. Finally Gabriel looked at him with a lopsided grin that made something deep inside Michael ache.

"Oh come on, you don't find that even a little funny?"

"No," Michael said, "and in three decades when the War begins, I doubt you will as well."

Gabriel's smile slipped at the dark tone in Michael's voice. Michael had never been one to take anything too seriously. Oh he was well aware of a situation's full impact but Michael was very practical. Unless there was real need to worry, he did not. Most of the time Gabriel had been grateful for his lack of dramatics. It was a sharp contrast to Selaphiel, who barely needed anything to fly off the handle, and to Raphael who was prone to becoming steely silent and painfully obvious in his distress. But not Michael. Now as he looked at him though, Gabriel had a feeling that the world that awaited him thirty years down the line was one that he did not want to be a part of. He had no doubt he had not returned to Heaven but from the look Michael had given him when he had first seen him, he was not associating with any of the Angels. For some reason the thought was strange. The Apocalypse struck him as a good time to make up with people, especially if the world was ending.

"So I'm still out here?" he asked. Michael gave a curt nod and despite his personal feelings, Gabriel grinned, "sweet. So--"

"I will not tell you what will become of you," Michael said, "I intend to erase these memories from the Vessels and I know you will not risk changing the future."

"That depends on how awesome it is," Gabriel said before he leaned forward, "unless, unless because baby Winchester told you to shove it, you aren't off on the Earth and you got no idea how awesome my future is."

"I know you are alive," Michael said, "nothing more."

"Well if I'm alive and not in Heaven, how bad could it possibly be?" Michael gave no reply, "so what'd the little Winchest say?"

Michael was silent for a moment. He knew Gabriel would press the issue. His intent would not be malicious but he would do it none the less. And in truth Michael needed to speak of what had happen. It was why he had risked everything to come and speak to Gabriel. There were other Archangels in Heaven, other he could have spoken to, but they would not understand like Gabriel would. Gabriel who had been the first to stand beside him when Lucifer had chosen to Fall. Gabriel who had not left his side for a moment during those tormenting battles. It was Gabriel who had carried him away from the battlefield after he had cast Lucifer out, when the pain and sorrow and weariness had become too much to bear. It was the first time that Michael himself had spoken to Dean and what he had seen, what he had heard, it was enough to make even the strongest believer have doubts.

"Michael?" Michael looked up to see concern in Gabriel's eyes.

"The way he looked at me--" Michael stopped himself, surprised at how thick his voice was, "it was like I was not an Arc, not even an Angel--"

"He probably doesn't understand what's going on," Gabriel began, insults quickly fading from his speech.

"No," Michael cut him off, "he understands. I did as well. I watched him scream for his brother. If I had told him that I would not save his brother unless he said yes, I believe he would have."

Gabriel didn't ask why Michael didn't just do that. There was no need. Michael would have died before he used a brother's love to get what he wanted. From the look in his eyes though, it seemed that while that would have been unfathomable, there had been other steps taken in order to 'persuade' Dean Winchester to say yes. Whatever they had been though, it seemed that this was Michael's turning point. Gabriel forced himself to be quiet as Michael struggled for the right words. It was unusal for the Archangel to show any kind of weakness and Gabriel knew that he was among the three creatures in all of existence that had seen the impossibly great Michael the Archangel show actual weakness. When Michael spoke next, however, the tone he used was one Gabriel had not heard in over a thousand years.

"He looked at me like Lucifer did," Michael admitted, his voice starting off defeated and sad before it became edged in steel, "like I was the traitor, the one disobeying our Father," he looked at Gabriel, "and when I went to see Castiel, he looked at me the same way. Like I was not going to send him back to where he belonged but like I was going to condemn him to Hell."

"People always get pissy when you charge them with a mission from God," Gabriel said, "Mary threw a vase at my head, remember?" he winced at the memory of Jesus's mother's unusually strong arm, "they always get upset."

"This went beyond that," Michael said, "it was as if everything they had once held dear had been ripped away by my hand."

"Well aren't they Hunters?" Gabriel said. Michael nodded, "well then isn't that kinda what happened. Think about it, the spend their entire lives getting rid of the Demons--which is also what we kind of do--and then they find out that the people who are supposed to be on their team are willing to do some pretty messed up shit to get their way?"

"He said he did not want to be an Angel condom," Michael said finally.

"Well would you?" Gabriel asked. Finally Michael shook his head, "so why don't you try and go and help them?"

"It is not that simple," Michael said.

"Oh don't go overcomplicating things," Gabriel said with a snort, "you sound like a human."

Michael raised an eyebrow. Gabriel frowned, the way he was looking made it seem like he knew something that Gabriel didn't.

"What?" Gabriel asked.

"Do you not think its odd that I am speaking to you like this? That you have become human enough to belong to a time? That in twenty, thirty years that is another you. You are a part of this timeline, not removed from it. Not really, not anymore."

"Yeah, and your point?" Gabriel asked.

"If there is one of us acting like a human, Gabriel, it is not me," Michael said cooly.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at his brother before he let out a snort of laughter and shook his head. Michael watched him cooly but Gabriel couldn't find it in himself to be pissed off at his brother.

"So you really haven't found my sorry ass and dragged me back to heaven?" Gabriel asked. Michael opened his mouth, "and don't give me that 'I don't have a Vessel' crap."

"Well I do not. But you have hidden yourself from the Heavenly Host very well," Michael continued.

"Yeah I'm guessing in 30 years, I'll be much better at hiding from your sorry ass," Gabriel replied, grin not slipping.

"I have no doubt," Michael said, "you always were exceptionally good at hiding--especially when you were in trouble."

"Keeping you on your toes, Michael, just keepin you on your toes."

Michael shook his head, amused in only the way an elder brother could be at the antics of his younger one. Michael was the eldest, not simply of Lucifer but of all the Archangels--Gabriel included. And every brother had rebelled, to a certain degree. But there had always been a sort of humor around Gabriel's rebellions, rather than the malice of Lucifer's or the seriousness of Raphael's half hearted pranks. Michael did not know how long he sat with his brother, only that time seemed to go far too quickly. Before he knew it and certainly before he was ready, he could feel that it was time to get John Winchester back to his house. Ducking his head, he used a brief turn of power to transport them back to the Winchester house, John in his original cloths and Gabriel still in his suite.

"I must return this Vessel," Michael said finally.

"Yeah, I know," Gabriel said, "hey, carriage to a pumpkin right?" he jammed his hands into his pockets, "see you 'round Michael."

"Gabriel," Michael looked at him, "how will I find you?"

Gabriel just laughed and vanished.

Michael watched the spot where his brother had just been. He knew he could go to the apartment building but he knew that Gabriel was long gone--the building probably was as well. Finally allowing his eyes to close, Michael titled his head up to the sky. He had not realized just how much he had needed the interaction with someone who did not view him as the pony to bet on. Someone who reminded him that there was something in this world still worth fighting for. Idly he wondered if thirty years would truly change Gabriel. Would he be bitter? Angry? Or would he still have a sense of humor? Still have that grin that could outshine even the darkest moments? In his most selfish of selves, Michael hoped that thirty years had not changed him too much. Opening his eyes, Michael turned to face the house. It was time to get John Winchester back home.

Michael walked up to the house. He could feel the wards that Mary Winchester had put around the house to protect it from the Supernatural. Getting to the porch was going to be as far as he got John Winchester's Vessel. There would be some questions, probably some shouting but everything would be alright. If anything it would make her news of her pregnancy with Dean go over better. She had been keeping it from her husband for almost three weeks now. He could feel the wards begin to work on him. Slowly he pressed his back to the wall and let his jellied legs give out under him, brining him quickly to the ground. He had forgotten just how unpleasant leaving a Vessel undamaged truly was. Opening his eyes, Michael looked out at the tidy yard spread in front of the small house. Flowers would grow there, maybe a vegetable garden too.

But now there was a man watching him.

If he hadn't been standing there at that moment, Michael would not have believed the man was anything but that. He could feel nothing. Not a spark of Grace or a flicker of power. Unusual since usually even the best of the Angels gave off something. But not this one. Nothing spoke of Grace. Not the worn leather jacket or the jeans and t-shirt he wore underneath. Not the dirty blond, slightly messy hair or the bright hazel eyes or even the five o'clock shadow on the man's face. But he was standing there, looking at Michael with an expression that, despite his best efforts through is declining vision, was guarded. As if he was not sure why he was standing there looking at him. Slowly the man moved forward. If he too was affected by Mary Winchester's wards, he did not show it. Maybe now he truly was that good, good enough to not be affected by anything but the Oil. For some reason the idea both saddened and relieved Michael as the man stopped right in front of him.

"Hello, Gabriel," he said, the words whispery to his own ears, "I did not think you would want to be seen by me."

Gabriel, the modern, 2010 Gabriel, made a sound in the back of his throat and walked over to where Michael sat, legs sprawled out in front of him. He really did look different but as he knelt in front of Michael, he could feel the barest glimmer of his Grace. Not like the hurricane he knew but like the barest breeze. Michael let his eyes close, the familiar glimmer of power, of Grace, washing over him like a comforting embrace.

"You have learned new tricks," Michael breathed softly.

"You got no idea," Gabriel said, his voice more serious than it had been thirty years ago.

"I don't suppose I do," Michael opened his eyes, "what happened?" he asked, trying to put force behind the words and failing miserably.

"Got a visit from those Winchesters," Gabriel said. Michael turned his head, "okay so I might've had a little fun with them. But damn, talk about no sense of humor," he snorted and shook his head, looking for a moment like the Gabriel that Michael loved, "assholes. I'm guessing Dean's still saying no to you," Michael continued to look at him, "well hey, look on the bright side, least Sam's still saying no to Lucifer."

"Not for long," Michael breathed, "not without--" his breath hitched, "not without help."

"Don't look at me man," Gabriel said, "I am not taking sides in this shit show. You and Lucifer can fucking rip each other to shreds for all I care."

"You should," Michael said, though it was difficult, "if the world ends, so does your vacation."

"World ends, it all ends--thats kind of the point," Gabriel said.

"And what makes you think you won' t have to spend eternity with the rest of us?"

It seemed that thought had not occurred to Gabriel. The Archangel's eyes narrowed slightly as Michael felt sadness stab through him. The brother in him was saddened at the prospect of Gabriel so loathing the idea of returning to them but the battle commander in him said that if this was the route to enlist his General then so be it. He needed Gabriel, especially if Dean said no to him. There was no other way around the fact and if using this Gabriel's dislike of Heaven as a bartering tool was the way to go then so be it. Michael felt himself enter the final stages of separation. In a few minutes he would go to Heaven and the Vessel would be back to its original state. Heaven, back to the confusion and suffering and fear that was eating at the Heavenly Host. Dean's refusal, Lucifer's growing power--all of it was getting to be too much. It was only a matter of time before he was faced with another rebellion. A rebellion without Gabriel by his side, without the glimmer of laughter his younger brother brought. The thought was crippling and the tightness in his chest suddenly had little to do with the process of separating with his Vessel.

"I should have stopped this," Michael said, Gabriel's inhale the only indication he'd said it aloud, "i should never have allowed this to happen."

"Michael, you couldn't have done anything--"

"Yes," he looked at him through eyes that suddenly could not focus, "they listen to me--" he looked at the outline of his brother, "or they did once. But our Father--our Father is gone and I do not know what do do--"

"Hey--Hey!" Hands settled on his shoulders, "I don't know what kind of crap they're feeding you up there now but you do know what to do. You always know what to do. And even if you don't, you're one hell of a faker. If there's anyone who can turn this around, its you."

Michael's shook his head and Gabriel swore at himself. He was worried. He'd felt the change in his present self and he'd known Michael was screwing with time. But for Michael to take time off to go joyriding with a Vessel--that was so weird for him. Red flags had gone up in Gabriel's head and before he could talk himself out of it, instincts took over and he'd abandoned the orgy and teleported to where Michael was. Now he was cursing himself from here to Sunday. Not because Michael knew what he looked like or because he was suddenly reassuring the brother he'd been so sick of listening to fight that he'd abandoned Heaven. No, Gabriel was cursing because he saw the look in his brother's eyes and he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that however bad he'd thought things were up there, they were much much worse. Looking at Michael he could see the sorrow and the guilt and the hopelessness--all the thing's he'd seen right after that first battle with Lucifer. When Michael had all but thrown himself into Hell to undo what hadn't been his fault. Though Michael looked at him now with eyes rapidly loosing themselves to the separation of Vessel and Angel, Gabriel saw those emotions and he knew the consequences all too well.

"He looked at me like I wanted to kill Lucifer," Michael shook his head.

"Hey, we both know thats not true," Gabriel said.

"Angels are supposed to help," Michael gasped for air, entering what they knew was the final stages of the separation, "supposed to care--" he struggled for air, "not supposed to be like this."

"I know, Mikey, I know," Gabriel began. Michael fixed him with a withering look.

"Don't call me that," Michael exhaled, his head lolling forward before his eyes closed and he sagged forward.

Gabriel swore as he looked at the limp form. Michael was gone, he could feel that in the Vessel laying at his feet. Only the residual flash of Michael's power was in the body of the man who lay there but Gabriel remembered every word he had exchanged with his brother. It was the curse of being such a part of a real and transient world, he belonged to a time. There was a him running around in the world. Gabriel pushed himself to his feet. Reaching out, he nudged open the door of the Winchester's small home and seized the back of John Winchester's jacket, dragging the unconscious man into the home. He was way heavier than Gabriel would've thought, especially since he wasn't going to be using power and risking all the crazy reactions that using any kind of power would set off. Yanking him onto the couch, Gabriel stepped back and looked at the unconscious young man. He would father two sons, sons who would personify the Archangels that they would struggle so hard to remain free of. What kind of life was that? Gabriel barely managed to avoid the conflict and he was one of them.

Please, if you're up there, I need some help--

"Damn it," Gabriel swore, the prayer echoing inside his head, spoken with the broken tone of a desperate man. He looked upwards, "I bet you're loving this you smug son of a bit--"

His curse was cut short by footsteps on the stairs. It'd been a rough night--both in this time and in the time that he had come from. And Mary Winchester was anything but a fool. She was a highly trained Hunter who could feel that someone had done something--even if she was not sure what. So when that highly trained, on alert, slightly pissed off Hunter saw a strange man standing over her husband, she did the only thing that she could. She picked up the nearest heavy object, drew back her arm and pitched it at his head. Turning around, Gabriel grabbed the vase mid air, catching it in his hand. He turned and looked at the woman standing on the stairs, arm still half raised, body still too early to show true signs of pregnancy. Her eyes widened as she looked at him, the gesture eerily familiar to that of her younger son.

"What is with you women?" Gabriel held the vase, "not nice. And make sure you teach Dean some damn manners when it comes to talking to his elders, got it?"

The woman opened her mouth but Gabriel had already vanished, the ground seamlessly moving under his feet until time and space had passed. His feet hit the ground as he straitened up, vase still held in his hand. Looking down at the thing, he let out a breath and rolled his eyes. At least he'd caught it this time. Though he'd only exchanged the barest of words with his brother, Gabriel couldn't help but feel like he'd just gotten yanked into the conflict much deeper than he'd want to be. Glaring furiously at the wall of the nearest building, Gabriel drew his hand back and threw the vase at the bricks. The shattering of it was much less satisfying than he would have liked. Throwing his head back he looked at the sky.

"You're enjoying this a little too much you fucking coward!"he shouted at the heavens, "we both know you could be down here fighting if you weren't so damn scared of having to confront Lucifer again! You're a damn coward and we both know it! If you weren't so fucking scared you'd get off your ass and make damn sure that another pair of brothers didn't have to go through the same damn shit that you did! The Michael I know, the Michael I followed, would do everything in his power to make sure that no brother ever had to go through that. So until you pull your head out of your ass and get the fuck down here, I ain't giving you squat! You hear me you overgrown bird brain?!"

He was surprised at how raw and violent the anger that filled him was. Hundreds of years lay between him and his brothers and yet Gabriel wanted nothing more than to kill one of them with his bare hands. But that required going to heaven. So when he heard feet on the ground, it was more than enough to make Gabriel smile. A fist fight sounded good, great even. He waited as the person approached, their steps leisurely and unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world. Gabriel had time too, they all did even if all the time in the world now referred to a much shorter time span. But as the person approached, Gabriel began to feel something off about them. Something strange, like a whisper where there should have been a hurricane.

"I hear you very clearly and before we do anything, Gabriel, we are going to have to work on your manners."

When he turned around it was not with the intention to fight, not entirely. His eyes widened, his lips parted and for the first time in nearly a thousand years, Gabriel the Archangel was well and truly shocked. Despite hearing and answering prayers, he had never thought that one of his would be answered--or that he would be praying at all. Yet somewhere deep inside he realized he should have known. Known that this was coming, known that all the insults in the world might not have made he brother come but a good point would. He knew it and yet he found himself shocked. And when he finally got his throat to work, his voice came out more prayer than whisper.

"Michael?"

Woo hoo! I wanted to do something about the brother's relationship rather than save-the-world-time. As for the whole timeline thing, given that Uriel belonged to the past I imagined Gabriel would have too. Though I like modern Gabe better. Feel free to check out my fic Dominus Tecum or to try and incite me to write more of Michael and Gabriel.

Do it by reviewing!

Please review!