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michaelmilligan · 6 months

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Archangel Week: Michael Home is where your grace is

For the first day of @spnarchangelweek - let's celebrate our favourite celestial guys (gn). 🥳

(Midam, 4.1k post-canon fix-it, also on AO3)

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When Michael wakes up in Heaven, the first thing he notices is that it's both too bright and less so than he remembers. The second thing he realises is that he's not dead.

It should be a good thing, not being dead, but Michael only too clearly remembers his grace boiling, and his Father's annoyed, but also almost bored expression as he ripped him apart. What he sees now isn't all that comforting either: Castiel is glaring at him, his wings splayed aggressively, while the nephil just looks at him calmly.

It takes Michael a moment to realise that the child is not just a nephil anymore. It takes him even longer to accept it, and as he eventually feels grief wash over him, he realises that it's not for his Father per se, but for who He once was, or at least who Michael thought He was.

When Michael asks why he was brought back, Jack says the most incomprehensible sentence in the history of the world: “You deserved a second chance.”

“I betrayed your fathers,” Michael says, and glances at Castiel. “All of them.”

“For your own father,” Jack says, and it's surreal to see God hesitating, but it happens anyway. “I know how tempting it is to be loyal, to want to be loved... even by a bad father, who made you because he was bored, or who played at loving you to then discard you, and who doesn't deserve your love.”

Again, it takes Michael a moment to understand, but the child's golden wings are too much like Lucifer's for him not to know who he's talking about. It hurts to think that Michael's father is similar to Lucifer, the son who rebelled and who Michael had to cast out.

Back then, it broke Michael's metaphorical heart to carry out his father's order, but he would have torn his own grace out to be the good son, the one most deserving of his father's love.

Looking at Jack, he is starting to see now what Adam meant all the times he implied that being ready to do anything for one person, no matter how harmful, isn't a sign of a healthy relationship. The nephil might not have done anything for his biological father, but he still sacrificed everything for the Winchesters and Castiel.

He's not a child anymore, and God's power ebbs and flows around him like water dragged about by gravitation and wind – a powerful force, the ocean, and able to destroy entire cities within moments, but never by its own volition, always steered by forces outside of its own control.

Michael calms his thoughts. While he can't use Adam's trusty techniques in his True Form – difficult to steady your breathing when you have no lungs or mouth or nose – he can still make himself focus, and make his grace pulse regularly.

It's then, when he concentrates on himself, that he notices it. There's something wrong with his grace – it's subtle, but unsettling now that he realises it, and he directs his eyes to inspect every part of his True Form. It's difficult to see himself, of course, with eyes that are on him, but he finds out quickly enough, anway.

There is indeed something wrong with his grace. It's imperfect – a lot of spots aren't as smooth or continuous as they should be, and his eyes move with great difficulty over those places.

Jack's expression softens at Michael's rising panic, and he holds up a hand of the human form he still seems to favour. “It's okay. You're okay.”

“I'm broken,” Michael says, so loud that Castiel moves in front of Jack, as if a seraph could ever hope to protect God.

“I'm sorry,” Jack just says, coaxing Castiel back to his side. “I think when you died, a few shards of yourself were scattered over Earth.” His brows knit together as he concentrates. “I can still feel their presence in the US. Some were flung further, but not many.”

Michael is silent for a long moment. His father ripped him apart so violently that pieces of him broke off.

“I'm broken,” Michael repeats, much more quietly. He still doesn't understand why he, of all angels, was brought back. He also can't bring himself to ask any questions. While he's almost sure that Jack brought back humanity, that doesn't mean that he returned every single soul who was taken by God.

After all, Adam had no body to return to after Michael got it exploded. Adam had nothing and no one to return to.

If Michael asks, and Adam is dead and gone, then he will have lost everything too. If he asks and Adam is alive, then... well, why would Adam want to see him? Michael is the one who ruined his life, the one who had him pulled from his Heaven with lies and had his underling use him as bait. The one who had him tortured, and who then possessed him, and landed him in Hell for ten – or a thousand – years.

If Adam is back, then he is free for the first time in forever. Free to do what he wants, and to go where he wants, and to eat and sleep like a normal human being.

Free to be with other humans, to share his body and his life with them, instead of having a sun burning in his chest. Free to go to college, now that he doesn't have an archangel inside of him.

Yes, Adam is free, and Michael is alone, and if that's the punishment for all that he has done, then he will gladly take it.

Jack is talking again, about other angels he has brought back, and rebuilding Heaven, but Michael is barely listening. How is he meant to face the host when he is broken like this, and when the father whose rules he enforced with an iron fist over millennia has turned out to be a lying, pity creature who destroys his own creation at a whim?

No, it's better for Michael to leave Heaven and search for the pieces of him that are missing. If he's lucky, it will take a long time.

That last part, he doesn't say, but Jack still looks so sympathetic that Michael thinks he may have heard it anyway.

He finds the first shard easily. It's in the Atlantic Ocean, somewhere between South Carolina and Morocco, and Michael spends some time with the local deep sea squids, who not only found the shard and seem to revere it, but who also appear to realise that it rightfully belongs to Michael.

He is almost certain that both males and females are trying to court him, but they always hastily withdraw when they get too close and get the tip of a tentacle burned.

The squids seem sad when Michael leaves, but he's not on Earth to make friends, not even among such friendly creatures.

The shard of grace slots seamlessly back into him, closing one of the cracks in his True Form. That's all he wants from this trip – to feel a little more like himself.

Whatever or whoever 'himself' is. Michael tries not to think about it too much, fearing that he'll find out he's irreparably bad or useless.

The next shard, according to the images Jack passed onto Michael, came down in Carmichael's Village, Bahamas. Michael tries not to be disquieted by the name, or by the fact that it's on land and there are humans all around.

The thought of taking a vessel makes Michael feel sick – sidling up next to a human soul that isn't Adam's seems wrong, almost obscene. So for the moment, hidden in the mid-day sun in a cloudless sky, Michael just shifts above Lake Killamey, reaching out for the shard.

He doesn't feel it. Down in the ocean, once he was in the general vicinity of the shard, he could feel it reaching for him, longing to be part of the whole again.

But here, there is nothing. Michael doesn't believe that any human could hide a piece of himself from his senses, so the most logical explanation is that the shard is gone.

After all, Jack didn't tell him where the shards are now. He just passed on images of where they landed after Michael was exploded. Michael doesn't understand why – shouldn't it be easy for Jack to figure out the current locations of the shards? Is he making this intentionally difficult for Michael, so he'll take longer? But if so, why tell him where they used to be at all?

Deep in contemplation, Michael pulls himself away from the Bahamas and towards the next spot from Jack's memories. It's supposed to be in Tate Hell's State Forest, and again, Michael tries hard not to bristle.

Again, there are humans there, and with some clouds in the sky, it's more difficult for Michael to hide his bright True Form. Not that he even stays for long – again, he can't feel the shard here, even when he's pretty sure he's drifted right over the spot where it's supposed to have fallen.

He moves on, mystified. Are the pieces of him so obvious that humans find them and carry them away? Perhaps they are – the squids found that piece of him, too, and the only reason they didn't move it seems to have been out of respect.

Humans aren't exactly known to be respectful.

The next few places are a bust, too. Winchester, Kentucky. Marysville, Michigan. Michael's Bay, Ontario Canada.

The names are starting to grate at him, and the fact that none of his pieces are where they fell doesn't bode well.

Best case scenario, the humans have brought his shards all to the same place, like a museum. Worst case scenario, they're all in different places, and it will take him ages to figure out where.

Though maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Wasn't he hoping for a long search before?

The next spot is one Michael thinks about putting last on his list, but then he tells himself not to be a coward. St. Michael, Minnesota, is only about 150 miles from Windom, but the chances of Adam being in either place are slim. That is, assuming he is even alive.

At first, Michael thinks he's done it – hovering over the so aptly named town, he can feel the presence of some of his grace. Maybe the townspeople have recognised what they have, like the squids, and revere it in the church. But then he realises that the pull doesn't come from the church, and not even from the town. It's from somewhere further away, and is just stronger than what he felt from the one shard he found so far.

It might be a collection of pieces, then, he thinks as he moves in that direction. It leads him south west of Minneapolis, and for a crazy moment he thinks that he will land in Windom after all, but then he realises that the pull comes from a place near Titlow Lake. Not the town right next to the lake, but a piece of woods.

There aren't any humans there, he thinks, and drifts lower to scout it more closely. Has someone hidden his grace here, thinking no one would find it? But where?

Finally, Michael finds a clearing, and on it, a little cabin with a vegetable garden out the back and patches of herbs in the front. It might belong to a witch, Michael thinks, and descends further. He has no love for witches, and who knows what they want to use his grace for. Better to burn out the human's eyes and melt their brain than to let them continue.

Birds are startled into flight when Michael comes down onto the cabin, which shakes and rattles. Michael isn't above a little property damage or manslaughter to get what he wants, so he just surges right in, pooling in the room where he feels the pull the strongest.

A human is standing there, next to a chair that has fallen over, and a frightened voice intones a spell when-

“Michael?” the human asks, their voice and body shaking.

The spell breaks, and through the dissipating magic, Michael recognises Adam.

He's older, Michael realises, and it suddenly hits him that he never asked how long he was dead. It must have been ten years at least, judging from Adam's changed physique. He's no longer a puny nineteen-year old. There's stubble on his chin, and his features are sharper, more developed. His cheekbones are more visible, and his shoulders seem broader, and-

Adam has grown up. Without Michael, his body has grown older, and it has changed with his diet and exercise.

“Michael?” Adam asks again, his eyes still wide. “What- I don't-”

HELLO, ADAM, Michael finally says, and only remembers how loud his True Voice is to humans when Adam winces slightly. I'M SORRY, I DIDN'T MEAN TO DISTURB YOU.

Michael thinks that for a moment, hurt flashes over Adam's face, but then his expression is guarded.

“What are you talking about?” Adam asks. “I thought- Sam and Dean said you were dead. I- There were pieces of your grace...”

Adam looks away, closing his eyes for a moment. When he looks back at Michael, his expression is almost pleading.

Only then does Michael realise that Adam must have been the one to collect his shards. He must have gone all over the US and beyond to get them, and he brought them here, to this cabin.

YOU WENT TO THE BAHAMAS FOR MY GRACE? Michael asks, stunned.

They never went to the Bahamas, in the time between the Cage and Adam being taken from him. They talked about it, and Adam mentioned how he always wanted to go, but never could.

“Yeah.” Adam shifts on his feet. His Adam's apple bobs up and down. “That was so much freaking work. I even had to ask Sam to get me a fake passport. It really sucks being legally dead. And Canada was almost worse, you know.”

What little Michael knows about international travel, he gleamed from jokes Adam made when they were out of the cage. How an archangel flying him was so much more convenient than taking a plane, and how he didn't even need to go through customs.

Michael doesn't think that Adam ever flew anywhere in his old life, back before the ghouls, so his knowledge would have been second-hand at best. But apparently the horrors of travelling via plane are real.

YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO DO THAT, Michael says, saddened that Adam has apparently wasted his time searching for pieces of him. He's not sure how much he knew about where those were, but judging from how old he is now, it may have taken a long time. Ten years, maybe more, if he started collecting right away.

“Yeah, well,” Adam says, and it sounds defensive, “I didn't know you were alive, so.”

I WASN'T. NOT UNTIL THREE DAYS AGO, Michael tells him. He explains a bit about his quest to be complete again, and Adam just listens, tension seeping from his shoulders when he understand how little time has passed for Michael.

“It's been fourteen years, Michael,” he then says, quietly, an explanation and an accusation rolled into one. “I- I thought you weren't coming back.”

A REASONABLE ASSUMPTION, Michael says, because he doesn't know how to deal with the tears in Adam's eyes, or with the ache in his own grace.

It's not the cracks that are aching, except maybe they are, in a way that the rest of his grace longs to be reunited with – with what? The shards of grace that Adam has somewhere in this cabin? Adam's soul?

He knows that he won't get the latter. Like Adam said, it has been fourteen years, and Adam has a life without him now.

WOULD YOU GIVE THEM TO ME? Michael asks. He knows he doesn't have to right to demand anything from Adam. Even though the shards are from his grace, he knows that he won't pressure Adam if he doesn't want to give them back.

He painstakingly collected them, which is far more than Michael could have ever hoped for, and even if he only wants to use the grace for spells, that's alright.

Michael would like to be complete, but hurting Adam is not an option. The last time he betrayed him – betrayed his memory – it literally broke him.

“I'm sorry,” Adam says, and he really does sound sorry, but the implication is clear.

THAT'S ALRIGHT. For a moment, Michael made himself believe that Adam collected those shards for him, and not for some spell. Delusion is a powerful thing, he thinks.

“I thought you weren't coming back,” Adam says again, and his expression is pleading, as if willing him to understand something. Michael just isn't sure what, yet. “I mean, I collected all those pieces of you, and- and for years, I put them in this enchanted box. It can't break, you know, I'm still storing stuff in there... But five, six years in... I don't know, it's stupid, but it felt almost like your grace was calling out, like... like it was asking not to be alone anymore. Fuck, that's so stupid.”

NO. Michael thinks of how his grace seemed to yearn for him, pulling him close. Maybe there were still traces of him in Adam, he thinks, and a part of him wants to smile at the thought, even though he doesn't have a mouth to do that with. WHAT DID YOU DO WITH IT?

“I, um... You know, there's lore about people absorbing grace, or some other power, and I think you came in that way when you possessed me and...” Adam trails off, and his eyes are wide when he says: “I drank it.”

Michael blinks at him. YOU DRANK MY GRACE?

“Yeah. I- I'm sorry, I think it might be in my soul, or, uh, near it, and I don't know if we can get it back out.” Adam puts a hand on his chest as he speaks, and Michael looks at him more closely.

His soul is still bright and beautiful, maybe even more so with the inhuman blue glow that emanates from parts of it. It looks like cracks were filled with a somewhat off-colour – Adam's soul is already blue, but a little lighter than Michael's grace, and not as shiny.

Adam filled his cracked soul with Michael's grace to be complete again.

Or maybe Michael's grace invaded his soul, Michael thinks with horror, burning into it.

DID IT HURT? he asks, shaken.

Adam seems surprised. “No, not it was like...” He gulps. “Almost like you came home.”

Home. Michael's grace settling in Adam's soul felt like him coming home.

“I'm so sorry, if I had known you'd come back for those pieces...”

NO. I'M SORRY THAT I DIDN'T COME BACK SOONER.

Adam's lower lip wobbles. “Michael, you were dead,” he says, his voice choked up and eyes wet.

YES, AND IT'S MY OWN FAULT. IF I HADN'T HELPED MY FATHER- Michael stops, a burning shame in his grace because he regrets saying it. Not because it's incorrect – it's not – but because he doesn't want Adam to know.

But Adam just nods. “Yeah, I know what you did. And I also know that it's exactly what Sam and Dean wanted. Those assholes were using you the whole time.”

OH, Michael makes. He never thought that the Winchesters could have been manipulating him. Historically, he has been the one to do the manipulating.

“Yeah,” Adam says, his expression grave.

If they were still together, Michael thinks, he would be able to hear Adam's thoughts, and feel what he feels. It would be a lot easier to navigate both their feelings, then, with them pressing grace to soul, and helping the other unravel his tangle of emotions.

But they're not together like that anymore, and Adam already filled his cracks, has become whole again.

ADAM, Michael says, and then doesn't know how to continue. That one word would usually be enough to convey everything, but Adam's soul is so far away, and it has been fourteen years. Finally, Michael adds: CAN I COME BACK?

“What?” Adam blinks at him.

HERE. OR SOMEWHERE ELSE. I KNOW YOU MUST HAVE OTHER THINGS TO DO THAN SEE ME, BUT MAYBE...

Adam stares at him with an expression that Michael can't read. Finally, he shakes his head. If Michael had a stomach, it would plummet now.

“Michael, are you anxious?” Adam asks. Maybe he means it to be playful, but it comes across as accusing.

Or at least Michael feels defensive. IT'S NOT AS IF YOU COULD STOP ME IF I CAME BACK. I JUST THOUGHT SOME BASIC COURTESY WOULD BE NICE.

“You don't do basic courtesy,” Adam says.

I would for you, Michael thinks.

“You know I can't read your thoughts right now,” Adam says, and sighs. “I mean, we haven't talked to each other without being in each other's head for what, a thousand years?”

MORE, Michael says, and thinks back to their first meeting, back in the Green Room. Adam said yes surprisingly quickly, still a wide-eyed teenage Christian boy at the time, despite having already been manipulated by angels.

If Adam knew back then what would happen, would he have said no?

Would Michael have asked him if he knew what Adam would mean to him some day?

“Point is, I can't tell what you really mean this way,” Adam continues. “Do you really want to stop by every now and then, or do you just feel guilty about everything and think you have to repent? If I tell you what I really want, are you going to laugh at me, or are you going to go along with it out of shame and pity?”

Michael brings more eyes to rest on Adam, even though it's still difficult to manoeuvre them over the cracks in his grace. WHAT IS IT THAT YOU REALLY WANT?

The sentence makes Michael think of a song that Adam sang in the cage sometimes. It said 'I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want.' and then... well.

Michael doesn't think what Adam wants is like in the song.

“Okay, so, promise me you won't make any rash decisions, but... I'd like you back. In here, with me.” Adam puts a hand on his chest.

YES, Michael says.

“Dude, I just said no rash decisions! It's just... you know, I think maybe that's the only way to get that grace back to you, or maybe at least get you close enough to it to feel complete again? I don't know, we were pretty close before, my soul and your grace-”

YES, Michael says again.

Adam bites his lip. “Can you just... take a moment to think about it?”

WHY? Michael asks. This is everything he wants in this world – to be back with Adam, curled around his soul, knowing exactly what his best friend thinks and wants. He wants to talk to him, and have petty squabbles with him about whether Britney Spears or Avril Lavigne is better, and hear him bitch about how there are too many Pokémon nowadays.

He wants to fly Adam to three shitty diners in a row, complaining the whole time how that greasy, salty stuff he eats isn't good for him, but keeping his body in prime condition as they speak. There's nothing in the world he wants more than to sit and watch a sunset with him, only to then fly to another time zone and watch the next sunset there.

I WANT TO BE WITH YOU, Michael just says. THAT HASN'T CHANGED. I JUST THOUGHT YOU WOULDN'T WANT THAT ANYMORE.

“Are you kidding me? I literally drank your grace to have at least a piece of you back with me,” Adam says, and when he puts it like that...

SO WILL YOU LET ME IN? Michael asks.

“Yes.” It's almost a sigh, but it's clear enough, and Michael is careful as he filters into Adam's body, filling him with so much more grace than those few shards he found.

It's exciting when he finds his place next to Adam's soul again, and before he knows it, Adam presses against him – and then slides into the cracks in Michael's grace like he belongs there.

ARE YOU ALRIGHT? Michael asks, alarmed even in his exaltation. Is Adam spreading himself thin like this? Will he loose himself in Michael's grace?

But Adam only radiates happiness and content.

I'm great, he says in their shared mind-space. You're home.

I'M HOME, Michael repeats, and holds Adam tightly, feeling him sink a little more into his grace. WE'RE HOME.

He feels Adam do the equivalent of a smile. Yeah, we're both home.

In their body. Inside each other.

This is where they belong.

#It's Midam ofc. Because. Well. I'm me.#'But Alex you've told the story of their post-canon reunion before.' And you will hear it again.#Just a little differently #Midam #SPNArchangelWeek

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nobudgetarchangels · 6 months

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him

#lucifer #apartmentverse #nagaverse #spn fanart #nick!lucifer #i'm gonna tag this as a late submission for #spnarchangelweek #(thursday: aus)

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marigarb-art · 1 year

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My artworks from the Archangel Week

these arts can be viewed separately in my previous blog:@marigarb

#supernatural #spnarchangelweek #gabriel #lucifer #michael #raphael #midam #adam milligan #spn

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woundlingus · 6 months

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Moving On

Find on AO3

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005)

Category: M/M

Relationships: Gabriel/ Sam Winchester, Gabriel/Loki (Supernatural: Unfinished Business)

Additional Tags: Post Exodus 13.22, Falling In Love, Vague Ending, Canon Divergent, Gabriel Lives (Supernatural: Exodus), SPNArchangelWeek, Angst, Grieving, Suicide Mention (Brief/Non Graphic), Porn With Plot, Switching, Rimming, Rough Sex

Word count: 2,060

Summary:

The two of them were cuddled up to one another in the bed when it was all over, Sam smiled at the sight of Gabriel with his cheek smushed up against his chest and his face still all flushed. He was perfect. This was perfect. And when he asked Gabriel if he’d want to make this offical, his heart only had time to stutter for a moment before he nodded his response and pressed a sleepy kiss to Sam’s chest.

@spnarchangelweek

#okay this is the one I’ve been talking about #it’s a touch early but eh #spn #supernatural #gabriel spn #sam winchester #loki supernatural #Gabriel supernatural #Loki spn #sabriel spn #sabriel #Gabriel/Loki #SPNArchangelWeek #🔥#whump

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maggot-monger · 2 years

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been trickstering too long, his halo got warped (for gabriel day of @spnarchangelweek)

#spn #fanart #gabriel #spnarchangelweek #my art

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archangelraphael · 6 months

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@spnarchangelweek: Day 1 -> Michael - Injury

more close ups under the cut

#i really liked this one ^^#spnarchangelweek #spn fanart #my art #raphael #michael #archangel #raphael and michael #spn angels #thearchangelnetwork #spn #spn art #supernatural

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marigarb · 6 months

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Gabriel - Cozy

@spnarchangelweek

#supernatural #gabriel #spn #spnarchangelweek

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ramseynatural · 6 months

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@spnarchangelweek Day 4: Gabriel — give him your snacks. He knows you have some, hand them over 🔫

#spnarchangelweek #gabriel spn

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spnarchangelweek · 6 months

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Did you know we are but a single week out from Archangel Week??? I know, it's amazing to me too.

#banging pots and pans #we're almost there!!#spnarchangelweek #spn

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quietwings-fics · 6 months

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took a little journey to the unknown

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: N/A Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Genfic (Amara & Lucifer) Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Young Lucifer (Supernatural), Aunt Amara (Supernatural), Family Bonding, Curiosity Wordcount: 2073 Summary:

Lucifer finds Amara fascinating. Even if Michael and God say he should stay away, he can't help dogging her heels, eager to learn more.

Michael gave Lucifer very clear instructions. “Don’t leave your nest,” and, “I’ll only be gone for a little while, so wait for me,” and, “Why don’t you take a nap, Lucifer?” Lucifer had listened and nodded and then, peered over the edge of the nest he and Michael shared to watch his brother go. He waited until Michael was out of sight before tumbling his way free. He spread his wings, which still felt too big for the rest of him — especially compared to Michael, who had told Lucifer how he had been created fully-formed where Lucifer was meant to grow. Lucifer still didn’t understand why their Father made him this way, and Michael, in turn, didn’t understand why Lucifer felt the need to ask so many questions.

He couldn’t help himself. Michael got more frustrated by Lucifer’s questions than God did and rarely had the answers he wanted, but whenever he did ask their Dad, He’d talk on and on and on until Lucifer was squirming and needed to stretch his wings before he went crazy. That was usually the point at which Dad would sigh, pass Lucifer over to Michael, and tell Michael to answer the questions that endlessly flowed out of Lucifer, starting the whole process over again.

At a certain point, Lucifer had decided it would be better for him to go looking for answers on his own. He was big enough. Michael had taught him to fly through clumsy and sometimes harrowing lessons, ones that had Lucifer losing his way in clouds of space dust and often getting carried back to their nest by his older brother when he got too tired.

He would be back before Michael even noticed he was gone. He flapped his wings, lifting himself into the air with none of the grace his brother had left with but stubbornly persisting anyway.

There were so many things to see out there. The universe around them was always in flux. Lucifer thought the only constants might be him, Michael, God, and Her.

Technically, Lucifer wasn’t supposed to talk to Her.

If their Father really wanted him to stop, than He would have done it already. Therefore, He obviously didn’t care whether Lucifer spent time with Her. Maybe He even wanted him to. That made sense to Lucifer. Michael loved him, and Dad loved him, so how could She not?

Lucifer glided, wobbly, focusing all of his effort on keep himself from turning too far one way or the other. There were sometimes waves of energy that he could ride to ease the strain of flying. His favorite were the solar flares of newborn suns, so hot that they made his feathers tingle and reminded him of Michael, sending him off with a burst so powerful it nearly always knocked him off-course but was worth it every time. There were others, even more powerful, reaching from far corners of the universe to carry him further than any other.

Lucifer couldn’t feel Her presence, exactly. She was more like an absence, the opposite of what he was, what God was. He slowed to feel the edges of that void, skimming his wingtip where She had walked through and done Her work. A shiver ran up his wing, and he tilted dangerously, falling right into the void where She had been devouring creation. It didn’t hurt, but it froze him to his core, making it harder for him to fly and escape. He beat his wings faster, but his long flight to locate Her had already tired him out.

Panicking, he cried out, “Michael!” Louder a second time, “Michael!!”

He felt the palm of a hand cup his struggling form the same way he might capture a meteor in his own. He collapsed into it, exhausted, and he was carried out of the coldest part of the Darkness. The hand cradling him was still cold, but not as overwhelming and it wouldn't let him fall.

“So it was you making all that noise,” he heard, and he straightened up to face Her. He scooted around in Her palm until he was comfortable, his wings folded against his back. She lifted a finger and poked the spot between his wings, making him squawk in surprise. “My brother’s new creation.”

“Lucifer,” he told Her. He liked his name. He wanted Her to use it, the way Michael did, or Dad, when he wasn’t calling Lucifer and Michael ‘son’ interchangeably. She tilted Her head as She carried him further away from the roiling Darkness.

“Lucifer,” She relented. “Where’s the other one? The bigger one who’s always watching you.” She poked at his wing again. It was a little too rough, and Lucifer winced, pulling away from Her. Her second touch was more gentle, and pleasant shivers rolled down his wing as She pet it.

“Michael’s busy,” Lucifer said. “God gave him some very important work to do.” He stretched his wing out a little for Her to touch even more. It felt very nice. Different than Michael or Dad. They were warm, just like Lucifer, but She was new! And Lucifer loved experiencing new things.

“Like what?” This was another part he liked about Her. Very rarely was Lucifer the one who got to answer questions. He frowned as he failed to come up with a good one.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “They’ll let me help when I’m bigger.” He purred softly as She ran a finger or two over one wing and then the other.

“You’re already half the size of your brother,” She said. Lucifer puffed up proudly, his wings fluttering.

“I am?”

“You used to be so small, I was afraid I might crush you by accident. And my brother would never have let that go,” She rolled Her eyes at that last part. Lucifer laughed.

“What are you doing?” he asked when he’d calmed down. Amara tapped his head gently, and he still swayed in her palm from the strength of it. He shook his head to clear away any dizziness.

“Making room,” She answered. “Cleaning up my brother’s toys.” Lucifer nodded.

“Michael makes me clean up my own messes,” he told her, and she hummed to let him know She was listening. Lucifer could feel the vibration in his grace. “But then,” he continued, like it was a secret, “he always cleans up when I’m done anyway.”

“If you’re anything like my brother, you don’t do a very good job of it on your own,” She said. Lucifer huffed. A soft touch on his wings soothed him again. She gazed down at him for a moment, and Her expression melted into one of affection. “You do take after him. Such a bright little angel.”

“You think so?” Lucifer head swam at even the thought. Maybe that was why his Father had made him so small, why he needed to grow. He wanted Lucifer to be like Him.

Something twinged in Lucifer’s grace. Why not Michael, too? Lucifer didn’t want to become something that Michael wasn't.

“You should fly home, little light,” She told him. “I have more work to do, and-“

“I want to see!” he interrupted, nearly tripping over his words in his haste. She paused.

“I’m not God, Lucifer,” She said, and Her indulgence of his curiosity thinned to a stern warning. “The things I do are anathema to you.” She placed one finger below his chin, fixing his eyes to Hers. “I am Hunger and Destruction and Darkness. You were not made for these things.” Lucifer swallowed. It was hard to look at Her, the same way it was to look at God. Tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes, but he took a deep breath and forced himself to hold Her gaze.

“I want to see,” he insisted. “It’s important. I want to know.” Curiosity bubbled inside him. He had always arrived to find her in the aftermath of her work, and that left him unsatisfied.

Besides, if he understood Her, then maybe She would let him help Her. Wouldn’t God be impressed by his initiative then? Michael would be so surprised that he could handle this, and he’d tell their Father to let Lucifer help with their work right away, too. He could be everyone’s favorite forever.

“Alright,” She said, “but be still and quiet. I need to focus.” Lucifer spread his wings. He flew himself up to Her shoulder to perch where their lines of sight would be the same. He held on tight. She gestured across an expanse that Lucifer hadn’t visited in a long time, and that God hadn’t mentioned in even longer. Lucifer and Michael usually only played where His work was long finished, so that they wouldn’t get in the way. Lucifer huddled down against Her shoulder as it began to get cold again. He shook, but the Darkness didn’t scare him as much when he knew She was in control of it. With wide eyes, he watched Her unmake planets and snuff out stars. He felt familiar waves of power washing over him. He folded his wings up tightly so that he wouldn’t be caught. That was where the rest of the waves he had been gliding on came from. He’d flown on the last gasps of dying stars, and he hadn’t even known it.

Lucifer was not sure if he could call what She did beautiful, not in the way he found creation beautiful. There was something about it that kept him enthralled, though. The Darkness devoured everything in its path, leaving only emptiness behind where Lucifer knew eventually God would come and make more things, and then, when He was done, the Darkness would come again. Over and over, always.

Lucifer peeked over at Her face. She wore the same delight his Father did when He was working. Lucifer felt himself smile to match it, barely restraining his wings from spreading with joy before another wave of energy threatened to bowl him over.

“Are you still there?” She asked. Lucifer wavered in place but held on.

“Yes.”

“What do you think?” Lucifer looked out at the void beyond them, once full of odds and ends. He stared very hard into it.

“Do you do this with everything Dad makes?” Lucifer asked. She nodded. “Are you going to do it to me one day?”

“Yes,” She said, not hesitating for even a moment. Lucifer pulled his wings in tightly.

“Would you be sad?” She lifted Her hand and extended a finger again, letting Lucifer decide to reach his wing up to let Her stroke it.

“Yes.” Lucifer leaned over into Her, his wing still stretched out for Her to pet. “You wouldn’t be gone. You would be with me.” He nuzzled up against Her cheek. “And eventually, you would become something new.”

“What was I before this, then?” She laughed.

“I don’t know what my brother made you out of. That’s his job, not mine.” Lucifer shut his eyes and imagined being a planet, or a black hole, or a star. Stars didn’t have older brothers, he decided, so he was happier being an angel.

His eyes snapped open. Michael.

“I have to go! Michael’s going to notice I’m missing!” He really wanted to stay until She was done, but if he did, Michael was going to watch him so closely that he wouldn’t be able to get away again. He sighed. One day, he’d convince Michael to come with him.

“Wait,” She said. She plucked Lucifer from Her shoulder into her palm again. He balanced himself, wings spread. “Wait… and now, fly!” Lucifer swooped out of Her palm, beating his wings once, twice, before he felt the reason She’d made him pause: a huge wave of energy rolling away from the Darkness. Lucifer whooped as it carried him away, easing the ache of exertion as he relaxed into its flow. He looked back once to see that She was watching him leave, and he grinned.

By the time Michael got back to their nest, Lucifer was fast asleep and curled up under his tired wings. He only stirred enough to feel Michael lay down beside him and tug him in to cuddle.

Michael shivered. He ran his hands down Lucifer’s wings. Lucifer hadn’t even noticed he was still cold. He held his breath, but all Michael did was warm him back up, wrapping him in soft feathers and holding him close.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

#SPNArchangelWeek #fanfiction #general audiences #1001-5000 #genfic #amara & lucifer #amara spn #lucifer spn #michael spn #pre-canon #young!lucifer

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michaelmilligan · 6 months

Text

Archangel Week: AU To boldly go where someone has gone before

(Star Trek AU, Midam, 6.5k, also on AO3)

***

Michael noticed that something was going on the moment Raphael turned their face towards the console in their chair. They studied it for several seconds, their face rippling in surprise, before reporting to Michael.

“Captain, we have located a vessel near the Veruvian border,” they said, their expression flawlessly calm again.

“On our side?” Michael asked, though he already knew the answer – Raphael would never have reported it if it was not important. Still, there were protocols.

“Yes. Our scanners indicate that it is moving further into our space, though slowly.” Raphael permitted another slight ripple to cross their face. “Further, scans indicate that the vessel is a Federation ship.”

Michael stilled his hands, lightly gripping the armrests. “Is that an assumption, or established fact?”

Raphael tilted their head to the side. “It is the most logical assumption, but not established fact.”

“Then we will delay our judgement in this case until further information is collected.” Michael arose from his chair with the fluidity that only angels possessed – for a moment, he thought of Adam's struggles to get up from normal chairs, his complaints that he didn't have enough abdominal muscles to smoothly arise from a reclining position. The thought almost made Michael's face waver, but he pulled himself together. He was on duty, after all, and as the general on board this vessel he was required to be professional in front of his soldiers.

With a hand gesture, Michael conjured his standing console, and reviewed the data himself. His three fingers were quick, but his eyes were quicker, and soon he had learned all there was to know yet: That the energy signature, as well as the transponder signal they had picked up matched what little data they had on Federation vessels.

Only one had ever crossed into their space, and they had retrieved little information from it, seeing as it had fallen apart so quickly.

“How far?” Michael demanded, and Raphael bent over their console.

Samandriel let his fingers fly over his own console, no doubt relaying the assessment regarding distance and speed to Raphael. The angel was a good pilot, but sometimes a little hasty – he should have waited for Raphael's demand of the data.

Raphael did not draw attention to it, though, and possibly no one would notice. They may think that Raphael had demanded the data with a press of buttons on their console.

“Twenty minutes,” Raphael said at last, and Michael frowned.

He drew up the same data on his console. “They are well past our border then. How did they get there without us noticing sooner?”

This time, Raphael did press buttons to demand more data, and Hester busied herself at the science station to relay it. Her fingers were always steady, all three of them sure and precise in their movement, and her face betrayed nothing but a slight whiff of disdain. A true angel.

It was almost a pity that she could never become anything more than she was now. There was no track to becoming a general for those who were not archangels.

But then, this was for the best. She was well-suited to her station, and would only get airs of grandeur if given more responsibility.

“I want updates as soon as we have them,” Michael said, and let the standing console glide back into the floor as he returned to his chair.

“Relay any data to me,” Raphael said, and soon engrossed themself in a stream of information. Their face rippled once before turning to Michael. “We have confirmation that it is a Starfleet ship. Visuals have been acquired.”

“On screen.” Michael stood up again, and noticed that he may seem nervous to his crew. With forced detachment, he studied the view on the screen before him: a ship not unlike the Cassiopeia which they had encountered all those years ago, though obviously a little different, perhaps upgraded.

The designation on its hull read NCC-80102.

“Hail them,” Michael said to Raphael, who relayed the command to Inias at the communication console. “And inform the humans.”

That last command, Raphael enacted themself. Possibly because it might have been misunderstood by others – there were more than just humans on board. But Michael had never bothered to learn the differences between their species.

“We're being hailed,” Lieutenant Nitero said.

“First Contact so soon,” Will mused.

“Be careful,” Deanna told him, and he smiled at her.

“Always. But this is what we're here for, right?” To Nitero, he said: “On screen.”

Will stood up, and then wondered if he was maybe dizzy, seeing the scene on the viewscreen distorted like that. But as he forced his eyes to focus, he realised that it wasn't him – the other species simply looked like that.

“I am Captain William Riker from the USS Titan,” he introduced himself, putting on a smile to ease both this new species and himself. They looked like something out of a Halloween movie – humanoid, but too thin, with too indistinct features for the part on top to really count as a face. Like something imitating humans, but badly.

They were also blue, and seemed to be slightly glowing.

“I am Michael of the Heavenly Sword,” the creature standing in the middle of the screen said. “Welcome, Starfleet.”

Will shared a perplexed look with Deanna. “I see you're one step ahead of us. You know us, but I'm afraid that we don't know you.”

The creature – Michael, which was a surprisingly human name – gave something like a nod. “We have encountered your kind before, when they were adrift in our space. The Cassiopeia was reportedly torn apart by an attack and the passage through a wormhole.”

Will stood straighter, his hackles rising. “Reportedly?” The name Cassiopeia meant nothing to him, but was Michael implying that they had shot down the ship?

“Our scans confirmed damage consistent with that from energy weapons. Scans also showed that particles consistent with the passage through a wormhole were present. The survivors furthermore did not recognise any known star charts, and we were not familiar with their species.”

“Survivors,” Will repeated. Now they were talking. Unless these guys had killed all Starfleet personnel – in which case they'd know what to expect from this interaction.

“Yes, we were able to extract several crew members from the failing ship. Some of them have since relocated to our home planet, Caelum, or one of our colonies, though some have remained on board this ship.”

Only Michael and another of his kind were visible on the screen, the second on a chair in a way that reminded Will of Riza, and many hours spent in the sun. There was no immediately obvious way to discern them, since they had no hair or pronounced facial features. They did seem to wear something likes clothes, including gloves, but the two visible people were wearing the same colour.

Just when Will realised that he hadn't even asked their species' name, Michael took a step to the side to make room for people stepping into the frame. There was a vulcan, Will noted, and what seemed to be two humans and an andorian. They were wearing the same drab uniforms as Michael did, a dull sort of brown.

Before Will could even open his mouth to greet them, a gasp sounded from the pilot's console.

“Adam?”

Will turned towards the Lieutenant, but he only stared at the screen with his mouth open and eyes wide. On the screen, one of the humans looked back at him with a scowl.

“Someone you know, Lieutenant?” Will asked.

Reluctantly, Lieutenant Winchester turned to him, as if afraid that 'Adam' would vanish if he looked away. “He's my brother, sir.”

“Half-brother,” the guy on screen said, pursing his lips. “Hey, Sam.”

“Are you sure that it's wise to let them on board?” Deanna asked, but helped straighten the uniform around Will's shoulders. “I can't read them at all, they could be up to anything.”

“But you were able read the humans, and they had no ill-will towards us, right?” Will asked, not for the first time. Deanna could fret a little when her empathy didn't work. Not that it wasn't understandable – Will also had to think about the safety of his crew, and his wife.

But in the end, it was Starfleet's goal to meet new species and civilisations.

“Adam had some resentment towards his brother,” Deanna said thoughtfully.

“Half-brother,” Will said, but the joke fell flat. “Imzadi, this is a First Contact mission. As the captain, I need to show good will towards them.”

“Technically, it's Second Contact,” Deanna said, but then sighed. Will knew she wasn't really trying to convince him to cancel the whole thing. She was just airing her concerns.

“This will be over before you know it, and then we'll bring these people home.”

Deanna huffed out a small laugh. “My hero,” she said, and kissed him before they left their quarters.

The delegation consisted only of Michael – who Will assumed was the Captain – and the former crew members of the Cassiopeia. Will would have thought that they would send more of their own people and only let the others come over after, and he had still feared that maybe they wouldn't let the Starfleet personnel go at all. So it was a nice surprise to see that Michael apparently trusted both the, for him, alien crew members of his own ship, as well as the crew of the Titan.

It might have just been that they were beamed in that way, but Adam stepped off the platform right next to Michael while the rest of the delegation stayed back. The other human was looking around with wide eyes, as if she couldn't believe she was back on a Starfleet ship.

“Captain William,” Michael said, and inclined his head while turning his hands palms up.

A greeting, Will supposed, and tried to imitate the gesture. Adam obviously tried and failed to hold back a grin, while Michael cocked his head to the side.

“Captain,” Will started, then faltered. “I'm sorry, I'm not even sure if you call your rank captain – or even if you have the equivalent of a captain. You know so much more about us than we do about you.”

“Indeed,” Michael said, his face rippling strangely. Will also realised that he couldn't be speaking his own language, since the universal translator wouldn't know it – which might have explained the slight accent Will thought he heard. “I am a general, though we do not use titles much.”

“I see. Well, you probably know a lot more about how we talk than the other way around, so forgive us if we're coming off as rude.”

Michael inclined his head again. “This will almost certainly happen. I have been learning your English language, though, and your – ah, how do you say – human quirks.”

Will felt his eyebrows shoot upwards. “I see.”

Adam still looked amused, as if there was a joke Will wasn't getting, but he let it slide.

“Oh, I haven't introduced you to my First Officer yet. This is Commander Deanna Troi.”

Deanna smiled at Michael and executed the earlier greeting with much more grace than Will had. Michael returned the gesture, then studied Deanna for a moment longer.

“You are not human,” he eventually said.

“Oh, no, I'm betazoid,” she said, seeming surprised.

There wasn't outwardly any difference between humans and betazoids, so for a member of an alien species to be able to tell...

“I see. And the betazoid people have telepathic abilities?” Michael asked, looking at Adam more than Will or Deanna.

“Yes,” Deanna said, looking unsettled.

Adam frowned at Michael.

Michael turned back to Deanna, his eyes unblinking, since he had no eyelids. “My people have telepathic abilities as well, though we do not use them at a distance. We are rather private about our thoughts, and I would ask you not to pry.”

Deanna's smile was a little crooked. “As a half-human, I can only detect emotions, not full thoughts. And you don't need to worry – I cannot read your emotions at all.”

Michael nodded, though it seemed a bit stiff, which was interesting on a being that looked as if it had no bones.

“Can you turn it off?” Adam asked, his gaze on Deanna strangely intense. “Because it is kind of rude to pry.”

Deanna shook her head. “I'm afraid I can't. It is an innate ability, and trying to stop my empathy is like... well, like trying to stop breathing.”

“Oh. Well, that's generally not recommended, then,” Adam said, a bit startled. “Sorry, I probably should have known, but we didn't really get that far in neuroscience before the war, and I didn't know any betazoids.”

“Neuroscience? You were studying medicine then?” Deanna asked.

Adam nodded. “Until the Borg attacked. Starfleet students could volunteer to serve on ships during the war, and I was put on the Cassiopeia.”

That would explain why Adam looked so young. He could barely be thirty, and the records Will had studied before this meeting had said that the Cassiopeia had been presumed destroyed several years earlier, during the war with the Borg.

“How old were you back then?” Will asked, frowning.

“Nineteen.”

A nineteen-year old, volunteering to go to war, and getting lost for several years as a result. He must have been overjoyed to see his own people again, to get a chance to go back home.

“Please,” Will said, indicating the way out of the transporter room, “let's go to the meeting room.”

Even though it was called a meeting room, Adam was more reminded of a house party. A small buffet was set up on the conference table, and people started mingling as soon as they stepped into the room. Adam didn't have any plans on socialising, but he knew he had no choice in the matter when Sam spotted him.

“Adam,” he said, and his face lit up like a Bussard collector before going to warp. “I can't believe we found you!”

“U-huh.” Adam thought that they had found the Titan rather than the other way around, but if Sam wanted to live in a self-delusion, who cared.

“We thought you were dead.” For someone of his size, it shouldn't have been possible to look like a kicked puppy. And yet, Sam somehow managed.

“Yeah, well, I couldn't exactly send a message or anything,” Adam grumbled.

“Oh, no, I didn't mean to blame you.”

Sure. Whatever.

Sam gulped. “You know, your mom-”

“Yeah, I know.” Adam had heard about all the planets that had been destroyed by the Borg, back before the Cassiopeia had fallen into the wormhole. The loss of lives had been astronomical – though Adam had only fallen into despair when he had seen 'New Minnesota' on the list.

He'd had no illusions about his mom having made it. She would have stayed behind to help as many people get away as possible, and to comfort those who couldn't get off the planet. That was what his mom had been like – others had always come first.

It was no wonder that she had been a nurse.

“So,” Adam said, trying to chase those gloomy thoughts away, “how's Dean?”

The expression on Sam's face didn't bode well.

Seemed like Adam was the only (kind of, sort of) brother Sam had left.

“Angels... an interesting name,” Will said, intrigued.

While Michael looked nothing like he would have imagined an angel – except for, maybe, him being so undefinable – he wondered if his species had ever had contact with humans before, or if there was any other connection between them.

“I am aware of the connotations of that name in your culture,” Michael said, almost apologetically, “and our pronunciation is a bit different, but I found that this is what humans and the other humanoids will best understand.”

“You don't consider yourself humanoid, then?” Deanna asked.

Michael cocked his head. “Do you consider yourself to be like other species? We Angels are what we are, and other species may be similar to us, but I don't see why I should use a word for myself that marks me as similar to humans, rather than the other way around.”

Deanna considered that – while she mostly spoke betazoid, she was familiar enough with the English language to know what he was referring to.

“There are different words for it,” she ultimately said. “Every species takes itself as a base line, I think. But in the end, one admits when there are similarities.”

Michael gave a small nod. “One must admit that we are vaguely similar in shape, with two lower extremities and two upper ones, flanking a head.”

“And isn't that what humanoid means?” Deanna asked.

“Perhaps. But the word... what is the phrase... it bugs me.”

Will huffed out a laugh. Somehow, hearing such a colloquial term from someone like Michael was supremely funny.

“Did I use it right?” Michael asked. “I am still working through what Adam teaches me in earnest and which sayings are a joke.”

“Adam taught you?” Deanna glanced over at Adam and Lieutenant Winchester, who seemed to be arguing. “I thought he was a med student, not a linguist.”

“He is a doctor, among our people,” Michael corrected her, and also looked towards Adam for a moment. “He graduated at one of our universities and is working as a doctor on our ship.”

“Oh.” Will looked at Deanna. “I guess, over all those years, he built a life with your people, huh?”

Something like a smile pulled at Michael's lip-less mouth. “Yes. He has a life with us.”

Deanna's own smile faltered as she felt rage and exasperation rising to critical levels in the room. It was easy to locate the source – Adam wasn't only inwardly fuming.

“For the last time,” he bellowed, making the rest of the room fall silent, “I'm not coming back to Federation space, Sam!”

“But Adam-” Lieutenant Winchester started.

“Lieutenant,” Deanna interrupted him, walking towards the two. Once she was close enough to speak without the whole room hearing her, she said: “Why don't you take a walk?”

“But-”

“Lieutenant,” Deanna said again, more sharply. The intent behind that one word seemed to have come across, or maybe the Lieutenant simply remembered that she was his superior officer – but in any case, Lieutenant Winchester left, with his head held high and at least some of his dignity intact.

“Sorry for that,” Adam said through gritted teeth once his brother was out of sight.

Deanna could tell that he only felt sorry after looking at Michael, and even then the anger outweighed everything else.

“Have you tried the food yet?” she asked to distract him. It seemed to work – at least he was a little confused now, and less angry. “We made specialities from Vulcan, Andoria, and Earth.”

Adam scanned the buffet table with mild disdain, but perked up at a particular dish. Apparently, the cookie salad was a sight for sore eyes.

When he had placed more than a fair amount of the dessert on his plate, Adam said: “I didn't mean to yell at Sam, but he can't expect me to come back with y'all.”

Deanna made a thoughtful noise, trying not to show her surprise. “He thought he would never see you again, and then he suddenly found you. I think he can be excused for getting a little ahead of himself. Don't you?”

Adam pressed his lips into a thin line.

“My apologies,” Michael said, glancing at Adam. “It appears that my crew member caused a commotion.”

Of course, it was Sam Winchester who was really at fault, pressuring and annoying Adam. But still, it was unlike Adam to loose his cool like that – Michael needed to find away to detach himself from Captain William, and pull Adam away from Commander Deanna...

“Oh, well, I'm sure my crew member is partly at fault,” Captain William said, his smile a little crooked. “I must say, I never thought about anyone staying, either. But it has been several years, so Adam... sorry, Doctor Milligan, right? Anyway, it must be difficult to imagine leaving now, especially if he's a doctor for your species, which – sorry, but I doubt that what he learned is all that applicable to other species.”

Michael nodded. “Yes. And several of the survivors from the Cassiopeia have built lives with us. Most of them have settled somewhere, though I imagine some may still wish to return to their people.”

It would be hard on Adam if all his humanoid friends left. Michael didn't actually have any idea if any of the other crew members would stay.

With a start, Michael realised that not only Adam would miss them. Raphael's weekly 3D chess matches with T'Lor would stop. Samandriel wouldn't have Tynaar following him around the ship with big eyes like a hellhound puppy anymore.

Michael wouldn't be able to ask Mariama about human culture and traditions anymore, and would be unable to surprise Adam with a celebration or gift from his home.

The loss to Michael's crew, logistically as well as emotionally, would be higher than anticipated.

In the comfort of their own quarters, Michael placed a tentative hand on Adam's clothed upper arm. At first, Michael thought that Adam would shake him off and deny him any further intimacy, but then he placed his other hand over Michael's.

Since both of them had already taken off their gloves, the touch sparked their mental connection, and Michael felt tension fall off of both of them as their essences touched and joined. As so often, Adam's smaller essence was surrounded by Michael's bigger one, as in a hug. Adam also jokingly called Michael 'the big spoon' regularly.

But a part of Adam was keeping itself back, closed off to Michael. He prodded it gently, and Adam was stubborn for a moment, but eventually released his feelings to Michael's soothing presence.

Anger. It was anger, and hurt, and confusion because he had never expected to see one of his half-brothers, or even any human, again. There was even a small part of Adam that was touched by Sam's concern, though it was almost drowned out by the anger and resentment at his so-called family.

Images of his homeworld's name flashing on a screen bubbled to the surface. And then images that were not memories but nightmares – his mother brutally killed, buried under rubble, or worse, assimilated by those vile creatures, the Borg.

Michael shuddered – he was not immune to the breadth of Adam's emotions, which sometimes threatened to overwhelm him. Angel minds were more disciplined, and more capable of keeping their emotions separate instead of having them tangled in one big, complicated mess. But human minds – or at least Adam's, since Michael had never touched the essence of another humanoid – were always swirling with unfinished thoughts and knotted up emotions.

It was chaos, as Raphael would have said, if they had known. Michael never spoke to them of his connection to Adam, since that would have been most rude, though of course when he joined his essence with Raphael, some things tended to bleed through.

The thing was, Michael liked the chaotic nature of Adam's mind – as an archangel and general of this vessel, he rarely ever got to solve puzzles himself anymore, and mundane tasks such as sorting were done by computers. But Adam's mind couldn't be touched by a computer, and so Michael started organising the thoughts and feelings, putting them in neat 'boxes' as Adam always said.

Adam's essence calmed down at his efforts, letting him disentangle what had been a stream of feelings and was now a mere trickle. It was only when Michael pulled out the little thread of gratefulness that Adam seemed to realise it was there – he peered at it with a wave of surprise, and then embarrassment.

Michael took those feelings, too, and made neat stacks of them.

Ultimately, Adam radiated amusement, and love.

Michael took the latter one and added it to his own, letting their feelings combine and heighten each other.

For a long time, Michael hadn't thought that he would ever have a mate. He was an archangel, after all, and his power and position made it difficult to get to know any other angels. The only equals he had among his people were his siblings, and while it was not forbidden to form mate bonds with those who had come from the same parent, they were all, in his mind, children, and would always be.

Yes, Raphael was a capable general in their respective position on the ship, but they were also his little sibling who had always had a question to ask about science and how the universe worked, and who had quickly exceeded the knowledge Michael had about such things.

Gabriel, of course, was still a little kid and a prankster at heart, and Lucifer – well. Michael's relationship to Lucifer was complicated, in part because he had expected for them to form a mate bond, which Michael had rejected, since their father had forbidden it.

But now Michael had Adam, and while this did not preclude them from forming further mate bonds, he thought that he would be satisfied if he spent his whole life with only him.

Adam's essence nudged him playfully, telling him that the way he was spilling emotions and images needed to be contemplated together. Of course, Michael's emotions had all slid neatly into their boxes, with none left unsorted, but Adam drew attention to one which Michael had barely noticed – a hint of regret.

Adam seemed insecure about it, and Michael sent him a wave of reassurance. The regret had nothing to do with Adam, would never have to do with Adam, but was related to how he had rejected Lucifer on his father's orders, and how he was wondering if it had been right to follow his father's words.

Shame welled up now, related to this regret. His father had been God, supreme ruler of the angels, and it would have been treason to act against his word. Though now that he was dead... No, it was no use thinking about it. Lucifer would never love Michael the way he once had, before bitterness had entered their relationship.

This time it was Adam who sent reassurance, and hope for things to come. He had never met Lucifer, and yet Michael could tell that Adam already loved him, because Michael loved him.

But it was idle to think of such things when Lucifer was light years away, commanding his own ship. Though perhaps one day...

One day, Adam seemed to tell him, his presence now the soothing one. Our family will be even more complete.

We're already complete, Michael sent back, letting images of Kate filter into Adam's mind.

Yes, we are, Adam agreed – and then pulled back, out of their connection.

“Speaking of Kate, I should get her before Anael gets sick of her,” Adam said, smiling as he put his gloves back on.

“I should go to the bridge,” Michael said, and put his own gloves on. It was always a jarring experience to do so after having been connected to someone so deeply, but he would manage. “I promised Captain William that we would speak more about connecting with the Federation.”

“Are you actually going to do it?” Adam asked, raising an eyebrow.

Michael weighed his head. “I can only pass any requests and terms on to Jack – I mean God.”

His face rippled. It was still weird to call his nephew God, but he had replaced Michael's father as supreme ruler of the angels a few years ago now. With neither Michael nor his siblings wanting to take on the role, nor being particularly suited to it, the boy had been the best choice. Despite his young age, he was doing well – his connection to all of angelkind had made him wise beyond his age.

“He's more open than your father was,” Adam said, his voice carefully neutral. “Maybe he will allow the connection.”

“Perhaps. If their ships have the technology to travel the distance to us now, communications with them may be worthwhile,” Michael said, and then realised that he had excluded Adam from the Federation, his own kind, labelling them as the other.

But Adam just smiled and nodded. “It might help both sides,” he said, and brushed his lips against Michael's face before he left their quarters.

The second meeting between angels and the crew of the Titan took place on board the Heavenly Sword. Of course, it would have been possible to do it via comms, but it was both a showing of good will and a logistical thing, as those on board who wanted to go with Starfleet would do so after the meeting.

Raphael's face had rippled in displeasure when Michael had informed him of this second meeting, but they had of course prepared everything without complaint. No doubt where they fussing over the last details now, Michael thought, re-arranging things only for T'Lor to put them back in the previously agreed position. Michael now knew that T'Lor was the only humanoid except Adam who would not leave. Apparently, it would not be 'logical' to leave behind the opportunity of first-hand studies of a little known species.

Adam had made allusions to bonds and something called 'pon farr', which meant nothing to Michael. A muscle in T'Lor's face had twitched, though, and Raphael's face had rippled in embarrassment when Michael had mentioned it.

Perhaps he would inquire the meaning at his next connection with Adam.

For now, he and Adam stood next to each other but were not touching as Captain William and his entourage beamed over.

There were pleasantries exchanged, though Captain William appeared confused by Adam's presence, and called him 'Doctor Milligan'. Michael had never understood the need for two names, or including one's rank or title in a name. While he aimed to be polite by referring to the human captain by rank, he did not react to the way Adam called him 'Captain Riker' and gave Michael a very obvious look.

When he saw that Sam was attending the meeting as well, though, Adam got more tight-lipped, his smile more strained.

At least Adam could reasonably stay by Michael's side, now that he was acting as host in the capacity of Michael's mate, and not as guest on a strange ship under the care of Michael as his general.

The humanoids appeared to be continually baffled by the closeness they kept, but were distracted upon meeting Raphael, who was more polite in addressing them, and who made compliments about the fine humanoid specimen who had served upon the Heavenly Sword, and whose presence would be missed.

Michael wasn't sure where the surprise regarding Adam and him was coming from, since Captain William and Commander Deanna stood equally close. Though Adam had told him that it was rude to speculate about whether they were mates, Michael was rather certain that they were.

However, in order to ease the humanoids' minds, Michael made sure to suggest to Adam to try the buffet. Similarly to the set-up at the other meeting, they had prepared an array of dishes – both traditional ones of the humanoids, as well as traditional Angel dishes.

Adam tended to prefer the latter, since, according to him, the humanoid dishes were 'poor replicas' of the real thing. This made sense considering that the Angels didn't even know the ingredients used in those dishes. Adam had said many times that the grains the Angels used were different than the ones he knew, as were the vegetables and fruits.

Michael couldn't spend too much time looking at Adam without being rude, but out of the corners of his eyes, he saw him put a mountain of balagda on his plate, the sweet dish being one of his favourites.

Michael also saw Sam approaching Adam – just as he had planned.

Perhaps he should have told Adam that he had purposely asked Captain William to bring Sam with him, but then Adam would have only been mad at him. This way, he got the chance to make amends with his estranged brother without Michael being in the cross-fire.

At some point, Commander Deanna excused herself to go to the buffet. Michael was rather certain that she was only lingering around the Angel dishes to make sure that Sam and Adam wouldn't kill each other.

Sam was being annoying again. Less pushy, maybe, but more pitiful, if that was even possible. He was using his puppy eyes, and this time Adam wanted to punch him a little less, though he did still want to punch him.

“Sam, I have a life here,” he told him for what felt like the thirtieth time.

“You can have a life back home,” Sam countered.

Home. What was that even supposed to mean, with regard to Federation space? The planet he had grown up on, that had been eradicated by the Borg? Wherever Sam was? Starfleet academy?

No. Adam's home was right here, on the Heavenly Sword.

“Sam, I became a doctor here,” Adam said, willing the stubborn ass to finally understand and just be happy for him. “I'm not a doctor in the Federation. Besides, I have a family.”

Sam frowned at him. “What do you mean, family?”

“I-” It was rude to speak in public about one's mating bonds, but Adam told himself that it was fine since Sam was human. “I'm mated. And I have a-”

Adam broke off and looked towards the doors, feeling a pull, or maybe someone reaching out...

The doors opened, admitting Kate, with Hannah right behind.

Adam smiled and pushed past Sam.

It was poor etiquette to admit a child to a meeting, Michael thought, but he couldn't be upset about it when it was his little girl. He would have to reprimand Hannah after this, of course, since she had failed to keep Kate in check. But for now, he was happy to see her. She shifted from her distinct Angel appearance into a more human one when she saw Adam, complete with long blonde hair in what Adam always called 'pigtails'.

She had already been wearing a dress, having taken to those since Adam had first managed to replicate one for her. So now, she looked like a human toddler as she waddled over to Adam, and let him pick her up.

Yes, it was rude to admit a child to a meeting, but it would have been cruel to dismiss her now that she was there.

“Oh,” Captain William made, once again seeming baffled. This appeared to be his default mode that day.

“My apologies for the disturbance,” Michael said. “I hope my daughter's presence is not too inconvenient.”

Captain William blinked at him. “Your daughter?”

“Yes. She is daughter to Adam and me.” Boasting a mating bond would have been quite rude, but one should never fail to emphasise one's parentage. It was a point of pride, after all.

Captain William, however, only looked more bewildered.

“Oh, who is this lovely little lady?” Commander Troi asked, at which Kate half hid her face in Adam's shoulder.

“This is Kate,” Adam said, revelling in the bond as his daughter shared all her thoughts and feelings with him, still uninhibited at her young age and not wearing gloves. “Kate, say hello.”

“Hewo,” Kate said, and nuzzled against Adam's neck.

Adam sent encouragement to her, but also told her that she didn't have to talk to the strangers if she didn't want to.

“Is she your daughter?” Commander Troi asked, smiling at them both.

Meanwhile, Sam was staring with an open mouth, and his shock only got worse when Adam confirmed that Kate was his.

“But how-” Sam started, then blushed furiously.

“Procreation works differently with the Angels,” Adam said, and stopped when he saw Michael and Raphael approaching. “It's a long story.”

Actually, it wasn't long at all. Angel babies were born through the mating bond of their parents – basically, Kate was a brain child. She had formed out of a little part of Michael, infused with some of Adam's spirit.

But it would have been embarrassing to say all that in public.

“Say hi to your uncle Sam, Kate,” Adam prompted her again, and she turned towards Sam with sudden interest. Through her bond with Adam, she gleamed what an 'uncle' was – and she immediately wanted to go into Sam's arms. “Oh, sweetie, I'm not sure Uncle Sam wants that.”

“What? No, I, uh- I can hold her,” Sam said when he saw her reaching for him.

Adam looked at him sharply. “Angel telepathy works through touch,” he cautioned.

Or at least it was only ever used through touch. Adam was pretty sure that Kate could reach him even without touching, though her reach wasn't very long. So maybe it was both a skill issue as well as a societal norm that limited it to touching.

“Oh, uh...” Sam looked less certain now about holding his niece. Adam kept her against his chest, lightly rocking her.

“She's beautiful,” Commander Troi said kindly.

When Michael approached, Kate let some of her Angel appearance bleed through, startling the assorted humanoids. Adam didn't mind – he loved her in any form she could take, and if she had never looked like him at all, that would have been fine, too.

Once Kate was in Michael's arms, she turned fully back to her Angel appearance, that mostly faceless, vaguely humanoid shape.

For a moment, Adam wondered what others saw when they looked at them – what Sam saw as he stared with mild disgust. But Adam only saw Michael and Kate, the two people in the world he loved most. Not that he minded the appearance of other Angels – perhaps he had, once upon a time, but he had lived among them for long enough to get used to it.

“Well, this is a surprise,” Captain Riker said. “The first interspecies baby before we even officially made First Contact.”

“I'm not sure she has any of my genes,” Adam said, and grinned when Michael's face rippled at their old argument. Then his eyes softened when he focused back on Kate. “But yeah, she's definitely both of our daughter.”

“Well, Lieutenant Winchester.” Captain Riker lightly slapped Sam's back. “How does it feel to have a little niece, huh?”

Sam just kept staring, but the puppy dog eyes were coming back.

Great.

The Titan soon returned to Federation space.

They would be back to take any other survivors of the Cassiopeia who wanted to leave Angel space, and to further discuss a bond with angelkind. Michael wondered what Jack would decide with regards to that – he had put his own suggestion into the briefing which was sent to Caelum, of course, but who knew what God would decide.

Not that it mattered much, though Adam might be sad if God refused the connection. Still, it wouldn't have any bearing on Adam being home, right here with Michael, with their little family.

Because he loved Michael, and Michael loved him, and they both loved Kate so much it was sometimes unbelievable.

And maybe one day Raphael would be less awkward about their bond, and Gabriel would be close again, and Lucifer would have forgiven Michael. Then, their family would be even more complete – but it was already perfect.

#I had to do it. I had to.#The second show/franchise that gives me brainworms helloooo #spnarchangelweek #Midam #Kid fic I guess

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