Summary: Michael found out an entire garrison has been missing since the last battle of Heaven. He's not entirely sure what to do about it, until one day the fledglings find a dragon at the border of the wards. This is not a dragon like he and his siblings created. Turns out Sahaquiel and her garrison were not as difficult to find as he anticipated.

The prompt was: Unlike Lucifer, some angels never fell from heaven willingly – they were pushed.

Baring no sin, these betrayed angels would remain on Earth instead of Hell, becoming dragons; halos broken into horns, feathers charred to scales, and heavenly light breathed out as desperate fire.

It is not necessary to read the rest of Raphael's family to follow this story.

AN: AN: This is a short story in my Raphael's Family series, but can be read as a standalone story. The background knowledge necessary here is that Lucifer and Raphael are de-aged fledglings (all their memories intact). Michael would probably enjoy considering himself primary caregiver, but that's not really the case. When the archangels were fledglings, they created dragons. Castiel is the Fenrir from Norse mythology. Lucifer and Michael are Vali and Nari. (Except they can't remember which of them was which twin, and that really doesn't matter.) Gabriel is Sleipnir, not Loki.

This story was written for the tumblr prompt that suggested that betrayed angels were pushed out of heaven in the aftermath following Lucifer's fall and that baring no sin, they transformed into dragons. post/173231165557/otherwindow-unlike-lucifer-some-angels-never

My betas are goddesses.

Everyone knows that the first dragons were made by four inseparable fledglings. They were all baby dragons, because fledglings, even archangel fledglings, want to make things as old as they are. This is truth. This is fact. But this is not the only classification of dragons.

According to the Muggles, the Webster's English Dictionary says that a dragon is a fabulous mythical monster. The Oxford dictionary adds that it is a giant lizard. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, by Newt Scamander, lists ten species of dragons while a few other sources name a few more. The Men of Letters have a few pieces of lore on dragons, something about their tears being used for time traveling. But they also don't believe dragons have been seen in at least 700 years. The dragons that the wizard dragonologists study were not the same as the dragons the Men of Letters thought they remembered.

For a moment I would like you to pretend that you have never heard of either. Because what everyone had forgotten, including the archangels themselves, though Lucifer can be pardoned because he had very little to do with it, was that there was a third, or perhaps forth, type of dragon. This new type of dragon was created without conscious decision.

Following Lucifer to Hell willingly was different from cutting out your grace and falling. But something altogether different happened to the blameless angels pushed by their siblings in the mayhem following Lucifer's Fall.

This is the story of Sahaquiel, her brothers, sisters and siblings, and their road to redemption.

The fledglings were outside playing while Michael was reading on the porch. The repairs to heaven were coming along nicely, but no one remembered what had happened to Sahaquiel and her garrison. They had gone silent sometime during the cleanup following the last battle.

"Mica! Mica!" Raphael toddled over from somewhere out of sight.

Michael looked up, putting the book down to focus on the fledgling. "Hey, Raph, what's up?"

"Baby dragon, Mica. Come see!" The fledgling reached to grasp one of Michael's hands with both of his, like he was going to pull his brother in the direction the dragon had been seen. "It's different!"

Michael knew about dragons. He had hardly forgotten about the time the four of them had created a bunch of different kinds of dragons. The wizards had at some point in time decided that muggles shouldn't know about certain magical creatures, including dragons, and there had never been a large population of them on Earth. Michael knew they were still around. It was odd that Raphael was calling this one different, though. Slipping his feet into his sandals, he let his little brother lead him to the very edge of the wards.

Sigyn's property was a haven for whatever needed safety, but the baby dragon had not crossed the wards. Lucifer was on the inside of the wards, trying to bribe the dragon with some piece of fruit, where did that come from? But the dragon was not having it.

Michael was glad Raphael had come to find him and that Lucifer had not crossed the wards to fetch the dragon. There weren't many things that could pose a threat to archangels, but the things that could would very much enjoy getting their hands on a fledgling.

The baby dragon, as Raphael had correctly identified, was not a species they had created. Species did evolve over time, but Michael could not recognize any of the dragons they had created in this one. This baby dragon was black and dark red, with reptilian scales that covered his wings and body. He had a round body with short legs that ended with sharp claws.

Michael considered the situation. "Luci, the dragon might be carnivorous."

"Oh." The fledgling pouted at the fruit in his hand. "Why's it here?"

"I'm not sure. Let me try something else." Michael went around and stepped across the wards. The baby dragon watched him as he crouched to make himself appear less threatening. This was odd, because creatures other than humans typically recognized angels as a source of creation.

"Hello," Michael whispered to the dragon.

The dragon sneezed, smoke and light billowing softly from his nose. He shook its head and then took a few steps towards Michael.

"What do you want?" Michael asked.

The dragon stared at Michael, head tilted as though considering Michael carefully. With a look that Michael swore was glee, he zipped forward and pulled Michael's shoe off his foot. They were sandals without a back strap, easy to slip on and off, so he raised an eyebrow at the dragon. It would have been difficult to steal the laced sneakers of either fledgling and easy enough to steal his sandal. But would a dragon be able to reason through that?

"Drop it," Michael said.

The dragon backed up, holding up the shoe like he wanted Michael to come take it.

Michael walked slowly towards the dragon, and just before he was close enough to reach his shoe, the dragon backed up. The dragon wasn't running and didn't go far enough for Michael to lose sight of him. "Okay, you're definitely a weird dragon."

He looked over his shoulder at the fledglings. "I think the dragon wants me to follow."

Lucifer was still pouting at the fruit. "I wanna go inside," he said, turning around and doing just that.

"I come?" Raphael asked, grinning hopefully at Michael.

Michael considered. It was just a dragon and this could be interesting. He wasn't going to lose Rahael and the fledgling would probably enjoy a hike through the overgrowth. "Okay," he said, holding out his hand toward Raphael.

Raphael ran forward to take Michael's hand. When Michael turned his head back towards the dragon, the dragon had turned around and started walking forward.

As Michael and Raphael followed the dragon, the dragon would periodically turn around to look over his shoulder, as though making sure the two archangels were still following. If they got too far behind, the dragon would stop, as though waiting for them to catch up.

They continued walking through the overgrowth for more than an hour until they came to the edge of it. Beyond the forest was a rocky outcropping that surrounded a lake at the base of a mountain.

In the meadow there were many dragons. There were different kinds of dragons, and besides the baby, all of them looked like dragons the archangels had created as fledglings. With one notable exception.

Shoe still in its mouth, the baby scampered towards the largest dragon in the meadow. Michael had almost missed it, because she was lying next to the rocky outcropping, almost as though she were part of the landscape.

The archangels watched as the baby dropped the shoe a few paces away from the sleeping dragoness. He yipped at her until she opened a large pale ice blue eye to look at him. The baby yipped again, so she shifted her weight to lift her closest wing. There was an assortment of hatchling under her wing. Some of them were sleeping and some of them were tumbling playfully. The dragoness moved her head to peek at the dragons under her wing and she rumbled quietly at the awake hatchlings. Yipping, they rushed out from under her wing.

The baby of the same breed as the dragoness followed the other hatchlings of various breeds a few yards away as they started playing some game Michael was unable to recognize.

"Mica," Raphael whispered. "I wanna go play too!"

Michael was uncertain that was a good idea, but before he could stop the fledgling, Raphael was running towards the hatchlings. Before reaching them, he shapeshifted himself into a little dragon. Michael had to blink, otherwise he might not have believed it.

Michael winced. Dragons weren't one of the things that were capable of hurting archangels, but he was a little concerned because he didn't want Raphael to distress the dragon that was clearly looking after the clan's hatchlings.

The ancient dragoness watched the hatchlings with all the curiosity a dragon could express, but didn't seem to mind the newcomer. She lowered her wing down over the hatchlings still sleeping beside her. None of the dragons in the area were of the same type as her and the first hatchling, but that didn't seem to be an issue here. Michael could tell she was a very ancient dragon. Dragons were long lived, but he was certain this was one of the oldest dragons still alive.

As she tucked the sleeping fledglings in, the dragon turned her head enough to study Michael. She knew what they were instantaneously, but they were something she had long thought she'd never see again. Why were they here? He was watching her, as though trying to decide how she would react to the newest baby, the second archangel who had turned himself into a dragon to play with the hatchlings she considered to be hers. She didn't mind, as long as they weren't hurting her babies.

Michael approached the dragoness slowly and quietly to retrieve his sandal. She didn't seem inclined to bother Raphael, but he felt curiosity towards her himself. She was definitely not one of the types of dragon that he and his siblings had created, so what was she?

After he put his shoe back on, Michael found that he was right in front of her. He held out a hand in front of him. It was in reach of the dragon, but not touching her. "I'm Michael," he said. "Do you have a name?"

The dragoness considered the hand being held out. Why were the archangels wearing human vessels? Did she want to know? Did they know what she was? They weren't acting like it and she had heard the rumors of what happened to the angels who had fallen to earth and taken human shape. They were hunted. She wanted to see her kin again, and she decided that if seeing them again meant dying at their hand, then at least she hadn't hidden. Besides, if they became enraged and killed her without questioning her, then she would also be keeping what was left of her garrison safe. She was the only one that knew where they all were.

She brushed her head against Michael's hand. His grace sang beneath his fingertips, singing to the sliver of her own grace hidden in her belly. "I am Sahaquiel." There had been few humans she had been able to communicate with telepathically and she imagined that it was even more likely that she could talk to an archangel of all beings.

"Sahaquiel." Michael whispered her name in Enochian. There was no anger in his tone, only comfort and love. He stepped closer, and even though she couldn't see his wings, she could feel them as he hugged her.

Sahaquiel wanted to cry. She and her garrison had gone their separate ways on Earth centuries past and she missed her brothers and sisters. Her grace hummed at this closeness and she was sure Michael could hear it. The injury to her grace that had cauterized and severed her connection to heaven burned and she couldn't bring herself to care because two of her brothers were here. "Michael."

Michael leaned his head back away from her, but his arms and wings didn't move. He could feel Sahaquiel's grace, but he couldn't determine why she was in this shape. "Sister, what happened?" he whispered.

He was not surprised when he saw her memories through the telepathic connection.

Lucifer had been a warrior. A weapon of God. The Lightbringer. The archangel of truth and temperance. He had also been second-in-command to Michael as the elder archangel led heaven. Michael led the armies of heaven, Raphael the healers, and Gabriel the messenger. Where did that leave Lucifer?

Someone had to make sure Heaven didn't fall apart in the absence of all four archangels, including Lucifer. In the early stages, heaven not falling apart included the raising of the fledglings. It also included the healing of angels who were not soldiers who were injured as they performed their duties about the Silver City. There were the gardeners, who tended to the garden and the few animals in heaven and the scholars who wrote the books in Heaven's libraries.

The Rit Zien were not the only healers in heaven. Neither was Sahaquiel's garrison the only hodge-podge garrison of angels with different classifications working together. There was only one thing that set Sahaquiel's garrison apart.

Sahaquiel was the Seraph of Compassion and Mercy. She was the leader of the garrison that was to Lucifer as the Rit Zien were to Raphael. The garrison leader of the Rit Zien had once reported directly to Raphael. The same could be said of Sahaquiel and Lucifer. Lucifer distanced himself from her garrison before Raphael distanced himself from his.

The place of her garrison was not the battlefield that heaven had become. Some of her angels were gardeners and caretakers. There were no fledglings left in heaven, but the caretakers were not obsolete. They were not trained for battle, but they did not need to be for that was not the purpose for which they had been created. There were scholars in her garrison. There were four healers who trained under Raphael, three soldiers who had trained with another garrison, and two messengers reassigned by Gabriel.

The day that Lucifer waged war on heaven was the worst day for everyone. No angel was left unaffected. All the garrisons lost angels, and everyone lost someone they were raised with. It left heaven in a mess of feathers and dying grace. For Sahaquiel, it became a day that she wished she could just forget.

The fighting had started outside the city, but soldiers from both sides had eventually retreated headed into the city. Sahaquiel's garrison had been aware of the battle, but in their naivety, they'd continued about their duties in the city.

"Sahaquiel!" She had been tending a tree in the sidewalk.

Sahaquiel crossed the street to find a soldier pointing a blade at one of her gardeners. His wings lowered, protecting them. He was cowering and scared, not a threat to anyone.

She crossed her arms, wings spread in a defensive posture. She wasn't a warrior, but she was a seraph who knew her way around an angel blade. Her garrison was non combative, but it was her job as garrison leader to protect and defend them, even with her life. "What do you think you're doing?"

"He saw which way the enemy went and won't tell me!"

"I saw nothing!" the gardener whispered.

"You're threatening a gardener because you can't follow your own orders?" Sahaquiel snarled. "Stop harassing my garrison, who are following their orders, and follow your own!"

The soldier scampered off, rightfully frightened off by the other garrison leader. The gardener watched with some relief, and inched towards Sahaquiel.

It might have been presumptive of the gardener, but Sahaquiel had always been more casual and open with her garrison than some of the other garrison leaders. Sahaquiel could tell what he wanted, and uncrossed her arms so that they could wrap around him, along with her wings, when he was close enough. "I'm sorry about that," she whispered.

When he was calmed down enough to get back to work, Sahaquiel headed to check on other members of her garrison.

The battle at the edge of heaven was over, with all of the stragglers on both sides fighting elsewhere as they had fled or retreated or engaged. Most of Sahaquiel's garrison knew basic medic procedures in case there wasn't time to fetch one of the healers and because healers weren't necessary for tending minor injuries. So Sahaquiel's garrison had gone out to the battlefield to locate and tend survivors. There was no way for them to know which side the angels were on, and honestly, the medics didn't care. As far as they were concerned, everyone on the field were still their brothers and sisters.

"Hey!"

Sahaquiel looked up from the angel she was tending when she heard the shout. It wasn't directed at her, but not that far away from her, one of the medics had just revived an angel on the ground. She didn't recognize him.

The shout came from a seraph that was now stalking towards the medic. "That's one of the traitors! You can't heal him!"

Sahaquiel rose from her crouch, already heading for the medic. "What do you mean we're supposed to leave him there? Our orders are to heal everyone out here still alive!"

"Orders changed! Leave those who fought on the wrong side. They don't deserve your tender mercies."

"You're not my superior!" Sahaquiel shouted at the belligerent angel that was overstepping his bounds. She thought his name might be Zachariah, but she couldn't be certain and right now, she didn't care. "I heard the orders. They were to heal everyone and take the surviving angels that served Lucifer to the prison."

"Orders changed and if you won't follow them, that makes you both traitors as well!" Zachariah drew his blade.

"This is wrong!" her medic was shouting, "Wrong!" but it didn't matter, it didn't matter because they were being surrounded and she couldn't fight off Zachariah and protect her medic at the same time, and suddenly they were being herded towards the edge of heaven and there was nothing she could do, and they weren't the only ones. Across the field, other angels and seraphs were rousing the medics on the field, most of them her garrison, and herding them.

She was distracted by the terror of her garrison until there was crippling pain in her grace that muted the entire choir, with the exception of her shouting garrison.

And then she was falling, falling off the edge of heaven. The rest of the choir was muted to her, but she could hear what remained of her garrison screaming in the agony she shared with them. Their wings were designed for flight, but not to slow their fall to Earth. They weren't supposed to go to Earth this way, the gates of Heaven existed for a reason.

The heat was greater than anything Sahaquiel had ever experienced before and she had stood in the presence of four archangels in all their awesome power, blazing with the heat of galaxies. She was a falling meteorite and she was on fire. Her destination was earth and her grace was not designed to withstand this kind of friction or heat.

Her halo broke first. The heavenly light that filtered through her grace and lit up around her head was fading quickly as her connection of heaven severed. The halo was still hot, a band of light and electricity that had been a piece of physical manifestation of her connection to heaven and without it the connection to heaven broke, charring into blackened calcium sticking out of her head. Horns. This was what she was being reduced to.

Her tawny feathers burned to her grace, hardening into scales like melted plastic to skin. They were black and dark red, and she could see what her wings were becoming. They were ugly, monstrous black and red masses that she couldn't stand to look at because this wasn't the embodiment of Light and Grace she was supposed to be.

Even as Sahaquiel hit the ground, she could feel her grace inside herself. She hadn't taken a vessel, any vessel, let alone a willing one, and she wasn't supposed to be here on Earth without one. But without her connection to heaven, it was gone, she couldn't take one. Her halo was now physical horns, and charred remains of her once beautiful wings were scaled masses, but the scales didn't extend to- Are these even wings? Her entire body was now covered in these scales. She could still feel her grace, even despite being cut off from heaven. She was a seraph, seraphs didn't need to return to heaven to retain their grace. But what did that mean for the angels of her garrison? She could still hear them screaming in her mind. She may have lost the rest of the choir, but she hadn't lost them. It was selfish to think that it was nice that she wouldn't be here all alone, because she should not wish this pain on any of them, but they had all fallen, and they were still alive, and they would not be alone.

"Sahaquiel."

The exchange of memories from the seraph turned dragoness ceased as Michael's voice focused her attention back on the present. "I'm sorry they lied to you," he said.

"They were still our brothers and sisters." Sahaquiel shifted slightly. "Why are you here?"

"A baby dragon stole my shoe. Do you know anything about that?"

"Once upon a time, Raphael gave me four healers, you and Lucifer gave me three soldiers, and Gabriel gave me two messengers."

Only some of her garrison survived the fall, but Sahaquiel tracked down each and every single one of them to make sure they were okay. This physical form was large and difficult to maneuver, and her wings were too damaged to fly, but she didn't care. Each of them was stuck in a form similar to hers. They were big, round creatures with long slender tails and horns. Their wing feathers had hardened into crispy scales that had somehow extended to their entire bodies.

Dragons. She was the oldest of her garrison, born into the first generation of fledglings after the archangels. She hadn't been around when the archangels had created fledglings, but Raphael had told his garrison, the Rit Zien, that story, and one of the surviving scholars in her garrison remembered writing it down. No one could explain why that was the form they had taken.

Sahaquiel thought it was kind of poetic. The four archangels had worked together to design and create all of the dragons. It was the best example they had of them working together and not fighting. It seemed like justice of a sort that her garrison, which had only been trying to do the right thing for everyone, would end up in this form. She had no regrets. She would have healed that wounded individual herself regardless of which side he was on. Her only regret was that it had meant this for the rest of her garrison.

The fallen angels turned dragons lived together as a clan in the mountains. The sliver of grace inside each of them kept them from aging. They needed to eat, but not a lot. They protected the humans who lived beneath their home and once a year, the humans brought them food. The dragons avoided feasting from their livestock. Over time, they were able to fly again, as their wings healed. All except Sahaquiel.

Sometimes humans transversed into the mountains. The dragons didn't bother them because Sahaquiel and her garrison remembered the last command given by God. Observe the humans. Guide them, teach them, love them.

Some of the humans that visited were capable of hearing the dragons speaking to them telepathically. Some were willing to listen and learn, so the dragons taught them. They taught them healing, and human magic. There were still other kinds of dragons in the world, but they were less intelligent.

The peaceful times did not last forever. Other humans that were incapable of using magic started discovering that dragons had their uses or other dragons injured humans and dragon hunters started arising. This was also around the time that humans started figuring out about humans with magic and hunting them as well.

Wizards used dragons themselves, to some extent, but always without harming the dragons. Dragon hunting was outlawed and with the introduction of a statue of secrecy, true dragons were wiped from the collective memory of muggles and passed off as fantastical stories of dragons and magic.

Whoever came up with the idea that magic was against the church, was a person Sahaquiel genuinely wanted to eat. God created the people with magic and the people without magic and he loved them. Moving on.

She had the pleasure of meeting Merlin himself. Over time, her garrison had wanted the opportunity to explore other parts of Earth. So they had traveled in their separate ways. They were still able to communicate telepathically no matter where they went, so Sahaquiel was never really alone. She chose not to leave because traveling was more difficult for her without flight. And she liked it there.

So, Merlin. Merlin had heard rumors of a friendly dragon living beneath a mountain, so he visited her. Sahaquiel did not receive many visitors and Merlin was respectful and friendly. Not realizing she would be able to communicate with him regardless of the language he spoke, he sought to communicate using magic.

His telepathy startled her, for certain, but that was okay. He visited her frequently and she told him many stories. He did not come to her for learning, though sometimes he asked her for advice. Sahaquiel learned much of the current affairs through Merlin and his death saddened her greatly.

The first death of one of her angels turned dragons was a surprise. Someone had become careless and a dragon hunter had managed to take her sister by surprise. It brought them all grief. Despite her inability to fly, Sahaquiel traveled to the place it had occurred. The location was odd. There were many gigantic trees that made it difficult for Sahaquiel to navigate and it was odd because how had her sister managed to get here to begin with? But she had come this for, so she would keep going.

Her grace hummed. There was grace here and it was singing.

When she had pushed her way to the proverbial epicenter, there was an even more massive tree. In the front of the tree there was something resembling a rock. Except it wasn't. It was the source of the singing grace. An egg, then.

Sahaquiel wasn't entirely sure what to do. She couldn't leave the egg unattended, but she couldn't carry it in her claws while she flew because flight in this form still escaped her ability. She rolled the egg as carefully as she could to the nearby meadow. It was next to an outcropping of rocks and a lake in an uninhabited piece of land. It was a beautiful haven and a good place for her to raise the hatchling. If the egg hatched.

The egg hatched and dragons from all over the world came. Sahaquiel wasn't sure exactly what attracted the dragons, whether it was the egg itself, or the grace infused hatchling. None of her siblings had attracted as much attention with the dragons that were descended from the archangels' creations. It might not have had anything to do with the baby.

But they came. The wizarding world had nature reserves for dragons, but they could hardly support every dragon population in the world, and yet somehow the small migration of dragons from everywhere went unnoticed.

Dragonesses came to Sahaquiel's meadow and laid their eggs. Others brought their hatchlings and made their home there. Hatchlings approached Sahaquiel even when they wouldn't approach other adult dragons that were not their kin. They tousled with each other near her claws, climbed on her as if she were a playground, and slept beneath the security of her wings. She had not been a caretaker in heaven, but that didn't mean that she hadn't liked fledglings. There had been caretakers in her garrison even when there had still been fledglings, so she'd gotten to be around them more than the average soldier. She liked them and she'd missed being around children.

Sahaquiel raised the hatchling born of her sister's grace. Every dragon of her garrison that died was reborn into an egg, so she made it her mission to fetch them and bring them back to her home. She loved the hatchlings, but the grace sung to her even more than the grace of the adult dragons in her garrison. She wasn't entirely sure why, but her grace was only a sliver in her core.

The baby dragon that had stolen Michael's sandal had only been the most recent rebirth of one of her garrison members. She wasn't sure exactly what had happened, except that this dragon was one of her garrison that had once been a messenger under Gabriel. Maybe it didn't matter.

Michael rubbed a hand along Sahaquiel's head. He couldn't imagine what it would have been like to be stranded on Earth since the battle in Heaven. Time in heaven and hell ran faster, but that didn't negate her feelings.

"Sahaquiel?" The dragon blinked warily, but the memories ceased again. "Would you let me call a Healer out here?" he asked. "Would you and your garrison want to be restored to heaven, if that's possible?"

Sahaquiel's head pulled away from Michael. Not a negative response, but a fearful reaction.

Michael didn't reach for Sahaquiel, not wanting to scare her further. "Sahaquiel? What are you afraid of?"

"Angels killed the fallen who had no grace." There were no images that came with Sahaquiel's words, but Michael couldn't help but be reminded of what had almost happened to Anna.

Yet another thing to rectify, if possible. But how? Returning Anna to the proper time had not been difficult, but she'd been the only fallen he could think of that had gotten their grace back and someone had started the idea that they were supposed to be killing their fallen siblings. If they had chosen to fall and their reasons for falling were still valid, then they deserved to have their choices respected.

"That will not happen again," Michael promised. "I'm fixing heaven, and there will be no more killing of angels or fallen angels." He reached out a hand towards her, but did not touch her. "You still have your grace," he reminded her. "You're not technically fallen, just separated from heaven."

Sahaquiel considered. She didn't want to put her garrison in danger, but she also didn't think Michael was lying to her. At the very least, she wanted the place where her connection to heaven had been severed to stop burning. But did she want to go back? She really liked it here in this meadow and her dragon companions but she missed her siblings. She'd had no contact with her siblings outside of her garrison since that last battle. She didn't want to lose that forever.

"You don't have to decide now whether or not you want to return," Michael added. He wasn't even sure yet if restoring her garrison was possible. "Will you let a Healer examine you? You don't have to agree to that either, and if you say no now, you can change your mind at any time."

She considered, and then she realized she couldn't make that decision on her own. She meditated on her grace, keeping a watchful eye on Michael as she did so, just in case. "Hello." Sahaquiel called to the whole of her garrison. They were cut off from the rest of the choir and she was sure that Michael couldn't hear her. The garrison had not communicated together all at once like this in a long time, but she felt that this was a good reason to do so.

Sahaquiel waited for the answering voices in their channel of communication. When she'd heard enough confirmation to know that most were listening, she continued. "Michael and Raphael are here."

Her news was met with joy, and disbelief, but also confusion and wariness. Most of them knew what had happened to the fallen angels that had become humans. "They won't find you if you don't want them to," she swore. "But Michael says he wants to bring a healer to me, to see if it would be possible to restore us to heaven. If we want that. We have our grace. We're not fallen."

They spoke among themselves. Some loved their lives as dragons and others wanted to go back, as long as someone could prove that Michael wasn't lying about not killing them and it was certain that they really could go back.

"Talk to the Healer, Sahaquiel," one of her garrison suggested. "There should be no harm in that."

"I'll talk to the Healer," she projected to Michael. "No promises on anything after that."

Michael could understand her hesitance, and agreed. If they wanted to stay dragons, even if they could be reconnected to heaven, who was he to force them into anything else? They didn't even know if reconnecting them to heaven was going to be possible. The grace was there, though, so it shouldn't have been that difficult.

"Ephraim? Are you busy?"

"Not with anything important. Why?"

"I found Sahaquiel and I would like you to come here and give her an examination."

There was a flash of light from a few feet behind Michael as Ephraim flew to their location. Sahaquiel glanced at the new arrival, instinctually tightening her wing around the hatchlings sleeping under it. Rit Zien. They weren't necessarily disliked, but their rank had set them apart from the rest of the garrisons in heaven. But she knew this seraph. "Ephraim!"

She had many pleasant memories of being a fledgling. He had been one of her nest mates and always determined to heal them if anyone got so much as a scratch. Rit Zien suited him.

"Michael? Why is our sister a dragon?"

"No idea," Michael replied.

"Okay, then." Ephraim walked forward and held out a hand to rub Sahaquiel's neck. Her grace hummed louder than it had when Michael had hugged her. It didn't burn.

"Ephraim, Sahaquiel was willing to let you examine her grace. I'd like to know if reconnecting them would be possible, but don't do it yet."

"Understandable," Ephraim agreed. "Sahaquiel, is this okay with you?"

"Look," Sahaquiel said, an echo of a smile in her tone. "Look, and touch if you need to, but don't you dare heal it yet."

"Okay." Ephraim ran a hand down her neck and back, this time reaching for her grace. It was contained in her core, a sliver of what it had been in their youth. He found the injury that had severed her connection to heaven. The cut was clean, cauterized such that it would not be as lethal as most angel blade wounds could be. It had not cut right at the connection to heaven, but had somehow cut from part of her grace. The part capable of flight…

"Can any of your garrison fly?" Ephraim asked.

"Everyone but me," Sahaquiel said. She lifted the wing that had no dragons under it. It was ragged and scarred, scales spread like raised scabs.

"I know why you can't fly." Ephraim sighed. Why would anyone do such a thing? This went beyond casting them from heaven. This was mutilation. "I could probably restore your ability to fly without restoring your connection to heaven, if that's what you want."

"I don't know what I want," Sahaquiel admitted. "I remember the last battle of heaven clearly. I don't want to go through that again." Her grace pulsed against Ephraim's hand. He recognized that. This was emotional pain.

Michael heard because she was projecting to both of them. "There will be no apocalypse," he promised. "The cage opened, but Lucifer has his redemption. His behavior prior to his fall was influenced by the Mark, which Raphael cured a while back. That's why they're both fledglings now."

Sahaquiel was sure he was telling the truth, or believed it. She wanted to trust it too, but she remembered what had happened so long ago.

Michael considered her reluctance. "I'm living not far from here. Would seeing for yourself help?"

She agreed. Michael collected Raphael and convinced him to turn back into his normal fledgling self. Ephraim and the baby dragon that was an angel accompanied them. Michael used the long walk to explain about Sigyn and Loki and their own reincarnation to Sahaquiel. She was used to the reincarnation of members of her garrison that died and were reborn as hatchlings so she didn't find it that hard to believe Michael's story. Raphael had things to add to the story that didn't make it any less believable. From the mouth of fledglings.

They came to the edge of the wards. Michael and Ephraim crossed the wards without thinking about it. Sahaquiel stopped and the baby dragon yipped at Raphael.

Michael turned around. "You can pass safely through the wards. They offer protection to anyone and anything that seeks refuge."

Sahaquiel studied the wards for a few minutes before finally deciding for herself that the wards would not harm her or the other dragon. She crossed the wards, which encouraged the baby dragon to follow her after seeing that the older seraph dragon was fine.

Lucifer, Castiel, and Gabriel were playing catch in the front yard. It was a human game, but the fledgling loved playing with his siblings and his siblings, all of them, were more than happy to oblige.

"Luci!" Raphael shouted. "Dragons!"

Lucifer had just caught the ball when he heard his little brother's shout. He dropped the ball as he turned around to look in the direction of the shouting. He ran in the direction of the dragons because one was little and one was big and they were more interesting now because they were inside the wards.

The fledgling stopped a few feet from Sahaquiel. He liked dragons and the bigger one attracted his attention first. He stopped moving because his grace was singing. "You is not a dragon." He said mirthfully. He could feel her sliver of grace. It wasn't whole and it wasn't connected to heaven, but that didn't stop him from recognizing it. "Sawqi!"

She knew this voice. This grace. This was Lucifer, yes. But this was Lucifer as he had not been since before her creation. She had not had this pleasure.

"Sawqi? Why is you dragon? You're a seraph." Lucifer took another step towards her, reaching for her grace.

Michael had no idea what Lucifer was doing until the fledgling's eyes had shifted towards a blue-white light and his palms were producing the same color. "Luci, what are you doing?"

Sahaquiel's grace purred as Luci touched it with his own. "Sawqi not dragon. Sawqi seraph," he stated knowingly.

The dragoness let out a pained yelp. Lucifer's grace was healing her, but it was changing her physical form as it did so. She shrank in size, scales receding into skin and horns into black hair. Her physical body was now human and she was wearing a white dress. She was stretched out in a kneel on the ground, long broken wings covering her body. Her wings shifted slightly, red and black scales melting into feathers of the same color. The feathers were ragged, scruffy, broken. They seemed more suited to a dying bird than a seraph.

Ephraim winced at the condition of Sahaquiel's wings. "Michael, I know how Sahaquiel's wings were damaged." He chose to speak to the archangel directly so as not to be overheard.

"Do you know how to fix it?

"Sahaquiel's garrison is not connected to heaven. Whoever severed Sahaquiel's connection did so by cutting out a piece of her grace. Seraphim have a different physiology to their grace. I'm not sure exactly what this cut would have done to the angels in her garrison, but whoever did it broke her wings."

"And fixing it?" Michael repeated.

"Grace can restore itself, hence why Lucifer and Raphael won't be fledglings forever. But this happened in the aftermath of the fall, millennia ago. I'm not entirely sure why it hasn't repaired itself yet."

"Could it have failed to repair itself because it's not connected to heaven? From what I saw of Sahaquiel's story, the rest of her garrison are reborn as dragon hatchlings and grow up again. They're all capable of flight, but they're cut off from heaven and the choir."

Ephraim considered. "If it's not going to repair itself then the best thing would be to find the missing piece of grace and reconnect it. If her grace is stagnant due to not being connected to heaven, I could energize it into reconstructing itself without it, if necessary."

"Try that," Michael said. "If it doesn't work, I will find the missing piece of grace."

Ephraim approached Sahaquiel, kneeling at her side. He reached to rub her shoulder, careful not to brush against her injured wings. "Sister? I apologize for Lucifer, he should have asked first."

"It's okay, I don't mind." She tilted her head so she could see Ephraim. "My wings…"

"I can heal them," Ephraim promised. "But I need to know if you're ready to reconnect with heaven."

Sahaquiel swallowed. There was no more fighting, Michael had promised her that. She had missed her siblings so much. There had been a time when she had been closer to Ephraim than any of her other siblings. He was busy with his own tasks, of course, but maybe she'd still get to see him. "Okay," she said. "Okay."

Ephraim reached for her wing, careful to avoid aggravating the injuries to the broken membrane. Warmth surged through Sahaquiel's grace. It was ice compared to the heat of standing in the presence of four archangels burning at their brightest, but it was warm compared to the millennia she had spent in solitude and it felt nice. The warmth soothed the aches in her wings, and while she could feel her feathers knitting themselves back together. Feathers beyond repair fell out and new ones grew in their place.

The only thing she could feel was the warmth, and at first it was silent. She couldn't even hear the rest of her garrison, as the warmth muted everything external to it. The sound came back slowly, as the last of her feathers grew back and the cracks in her bones healed. It was quiet at first, just her garrison with the volume turned down. The volume increased slowly without the heat diminishing. Just as it was one volume below normal, the noise density increased. Her breath hitched. She wasn't just hearing her garrison. She heard the choir and her grace… Her grace felt normal in a way it hadn't felt since Zachariah had cut it.

"Ephraim… Thank you."

There was a pressure against her other shoulder, followed by a rough wet tongue licking her arm. Sahaquiel turned her head and came face to face with the baby dragon she'd been looking after. With Sahaquiel's attention, the baby yipped happily.

"Jophiel," the seraph greeted. "Is this what you want too?" The question was rhetorical, not meant to be answered.

The baby dragon yipped again. He backed away from Sahaquiel with that same wry look he'd given Michael earlier.

"Jophiel-"

Jophiel shifted his weight and spread his wings. He didn't take flight. His eyes, an amber color, glowed a slightly lighter color and he closed his eyes. His short limbs lengthened, claws widening and bending into fingers. His body also lengthened, facial features sharpening into defined human figure. His horns fell and straightened into black hair not very different from Sahaquiel's. His wings shifted, scales lengthening and splitting into tawny amber feathers.

After a minute, the dragon was replaced with a female human child, physical age somewhere between Raphael and Lucifer. The fledgling was not connected to the choir, but the archangel fledglings were only connected to themselves.

Raphael toddled towards the fledgling that had been the baby dragon. "Jo! Play with us?"

"Play!" Lucifer shouted in agreement. He yawned, but moved to join them.

Gabriel and Castiel were still where Lucifer had left them. They had watched the dragons, but didn't think surrounding the seraph turned dragon returned to seraph was a good idea. Gabriel couldn't wait to find out that whole story. Gabriel moved towards the fledglings. "Wouldn't you all like to go inside and have a snack?"

The three fledglings agreed easily, so Gabriel herded them towards the house. Before following them, he asked Michael, "Do you guys need anything? Ephraim?"

Sahaquiel pushed herself up into a sitting position, stretching her wings out as she had been unable to do in millennia. "Now what?"

Michael shrugged. "Well…. What do you want? What does your garrison want? You and Jophiel are welcome to stay here if you're not ready or don't want to go back to heaven. The same can be said for your garrison, even if they want to remain dragons. This is Sigyn's home, and the land here is protected for anyone that needs or wants a safe place. Do you want to come meet her? She's home."

Sahaquiel listened to Michael, and then to the whispers of her garrison. "They're not all ready yet, but some of them want to go home."

The archangel nodded. "If you tell Ephraim and I where they are, we will restore the angels that want to be restored. It's up to them. Let's head inside. Mom tried a new recipe and she'd like to see what you think."

Sahaquiel glanced at Ephraim. He was grinning at her with pleased anticipation. "After you, Sister," he said nodding towards the house. "It'll be fun."

She agreed easily. Sahaquiel wasn't sure how she felt about going back to heaven, but she could handle this. She had missed her siblings, all of them, especially the ones not in her garrison and she and Ephraim had been really close as fledglings themselves. He was right. She could do it. This would be fun.