A/N: hello everyone! nice to be back. i logged in a few weeks ago and remembered how much i loved this story, so it's getting an overhaul and an ending. it's also being cross-posted to AO3 under the same title if you'd like to read it there. thank you for the reviews and messages, both while this story was active and the few i've gotten while it's been sitting, it's refreshing to see why everyone loved the story so much!

unfortunately updates will be sporadic, but definitely every couple of weeks

It was a hard time, all those years ago, when the angels fell.

It was back before the apocalypse, before the Temples burned, all the way back to the events that led to the flood that purged the planet and sent Noah and his family sailing on an ark for forty days and forty nights. The angels, two hundred of them, had come to Earth from Heaven, bringing with them knowledge forbidden to humans. They had seen it cruel that their father should leave these intelligent creatures, some of his favorite creations, without this knowledge to further themselves. But if this weren't insult enough to their father, many of them sought out human women and took them for wives, and from these unions came the nephilim, unholy creatures of great strength and endurance, often with little sense of remorse.

The offending angels were cast out of Heaven, their wings clipped and ruined. Many were punished severely for their sins in Heaven's darkest dungeons.

One angel, Azazel, had taught them to make knives and swords and shields. These instruments had run rampant across the Earth, corrupting a great deal of his father's creation. Azazel refused to repent for what he had done, and his digression was severe enough that was bound and cast into darkness. Over time this caused his essence to twist and darken until he, like his brother Lucifer, became an agent of Hell.

Some of the angels, in fact a great deal of them, repented and begged their father's forgiveness. Many were allowed back into Heaven, their standing greatly diminished.

But a few scoffed at their brothers' repentance. They would not apologize for bringing light to humanity when their father had left them in darkness. This group of angels had not committed the greatest of crimes, but they were not blameless either. Their punishment was to walk among humanity, with ruined wings and without purpose. Ramiel was among this group.

Ramiel had worked with Gadreel in teaching the humans cosmetics, which led to vanity and , however,had only been Ramiel's first offense. Gadreel had also taught humanity the use of weapons and killing blows, as well as letting his guard down and allowing Lucifer into the Garden. Gadreel had been reduced in power after he pleaded for forgiveness after Eden, but teaching humanity to fight and kill had been enough to land him in Heaven's dungeon, even when he begged for his father's forgiveness.

Ramiel had been distressed when he learned of Gadreel's fate, but all his prayers and pleas would do nothing to improve Gadreel's position. Ramiel doubted pleading would even improve his own situation very much. The best he could do was be grateful he and his brother had escaped more severe punishment. What more than that could he do? His father's word was final, and with his wings clipped and his communication cut off, he had no way back to Heaven even if he was welcome. So, he did the only thing he could do: he dusted off his vessel and tried to find himself a niche.

Being without his wings proved to be a difficult existence, especially since he was still an angel. Ramiel needed no sleep or food, and so made an excellent worker, but his lack of basic human needs troubled many, and he was cast out of many communities on the belief that he was an unholy creature.

Unholy, Ramiel thought with a smirk on one such occasion. What a thing to be considered.

As the years wore on and humanity went through its cycle of prosperity, war, and famine, Ramiel wandered. He never lingered in a place for too long. He worked when he could, helped heal the sick at times when he was sure Heaven was preoccupied with other matters and wouldn't give him a second thought. He would watch the humans fight each other in bouts of competition and war, and he would think back to his brothers Azazel and Gadreel and how well they had taught humanity.

There were times when Ramiel would come across his fallen brothers and sisters, and they would acknowledge each other, perhaps exchange information or gossip, and then be on their way. Many of his siblings had grown weary of Earth and wanted to go home, to have purpose again. Ramiel had no such qualms. He didn't particularly enjoy the human experience (it was frightfully boring most days), but he refused to admit that he had been wrong to teach humanity, especially now that they had built such wonderful societies for themselves.

Sometimes Ramiel would run into his winged brothers and sisters, and he would ask for news of Heaven, of those who had been punished all those years ago before the flood. But the angels wouldn't speak to him. They would nod a greeting or give him a curt response, but they never spoke at length about why they were on Earth.

But one day, Ramiel noticed that all was quiet where the angels were concerned. Ramiel didn't see his brothers with any real frequency, but he could feel the lack of angelic power the same as he would feel a sudden change in temperature. Something had happened, something big enough that the angels needn't bother with Earth, and now they were gone. If they were waiting for something, Ramiel was afraid he knew what that something would be.

Once, perhaps two or three centuries after the angels disappeared, Ramiel noticed someone. Someone with wings.

Impossible, he thought. He couldn't think of any reason for an angel to venture to Earth after so much silence. And what was more, Ramiel couldn't feel his brother's presence.

"Peace, brother!" he called out on approach. The other angel turned toward him. The vessel wasn't particularly impressive; a little on the plain side perhaps, not very imposing, easy to blend into a crowd with; but when Ramiel caught sight of his brother's true face behind the mask, he stopped short.

"What are you doing here? Why are you not in Heaven?" Ramiel asked. The question came out surprised, a chirp rather than an accusation. He stood slightly straighter as if he could reclaim some of his former dignity in front of his brother, his brow furrowed.

The other angel smiled at him sadly. "Ramiel," he said. "A pleasant surprise."

"Why are you here, Gabriel?" Ramiel asked again, his voice much more firm. "No angel has been to Earth in centuries. The last time I saw you you were tying Azazel."

"There is fighting within Heaven," Gabriel said simply, shrugging his shoulders. He looked into the distance over Ramiel's shoulder, as if distracted by something over there, or perhaps by something he'd heard and was trying to pinpoint.

"So they send an archangel to Earth? Brother, you are not being clear," Ramiel said, stepping back into Gabriel's field of vision.

"No one has sent me," Gabriel said with a sigh, meeting Ramiel's gaze again. "I left."

"You left?" Ramiel was shocked. No angel had ever willingly left Heaven. Heaven was home. All angels confined to Earth or Hell had been cast out.

"I warded myself against my brothers, and I left." Gabriel's voice was growing angry. "The constant fighting is tearing Heaven to pieces. We do not know where father went, and our brothers and sisters do not understand why."

"Where father went?" Ramiel didn't understand. Father never went anywhere. "What do you mean where father went? Do you and the other Archangels not know?"

Gabriel barked a laugh. "You yourself should remember how little our father tells us," Gabriel said bitterly. "I would rather be down here, away from the fighting before Michael and Lucifer kill each other and half of creation than try to follow the wishes of our father, when we are not sure what those wishes are."

Ramiel was taken aback. Father's wishes had always been so clear. Ramiel himself had once been tasked with helping the souls the reapers took to find Heaven. That had been his task. He had done what he was ordered, until he broke rank and was cast out.

Gabriel could read the confusion on Ramiel's face, and he smirked at him. "You have too much faith in our father," Gabriel said, shaking his head.

Ramiel's face hardened. "Is this all the news you bring?"

Gabriel sighed. "Michael and Raphael are keeping a close eye on those of you who have fallen, and they are feeling particularly ruthless this century. Any more nephilim and they will destroy you thoroughly this time."

Ramiel raised an eyebrow at his brother. "I expect nothing less."

"Perhaps we will meet again before that happens," Gabriel said sadly, as if Raphael and Michael would find a reason to destroy him in any case. Gabriel turned to go but paused again, studying Ramiel. "A piece of advice," he said finally. "Warding will serve you well in the coming years." And then in a flutter of wings, he was gone.