Gabriel sat as Michael paced; fingers on his sword like he ached to draw it. His own lay on his lap, chipped. Bloodied.

Lucifer was gone, tumbling into blackness. Michael called it victory; Gabriel didn't know what he called it, but not... victory. Raphael was gone, hidden in his quarters. You could hear the sobs from Eden.

And now, Father was silent. The voice that sang with colour was gone from his mind.

And still Michael paced, planning his next move, in a game for an absent father.

And in that moment, Gabriel decided.

Screw it, he thought. I'm done.