Raguel looked out over the water – crystal clear, a baby blue so intense it hurt to look at it too long. The islands, like bumpy pebbles dropped in as afterthoughts, houses shining bone white with sunlight. Brightly dyed clothes waving in the slight breeze, colorful like children's pinwheels.

"Michael, do you ever wonder..." he began.

"Don't – don't say that word," begged Chamuel.

"Don't start, you two," Michael grunted, "Our talks never end well when you bicker at the beginning."

"What I was about to say was, do you ever wonder if all of them are in the same place?" Raguel pushed his long black curls out of his face. "I think I'd feel better, knowing that."

"Our Father knows where the Son is, and vice versa. They're part of each other. Mary knows where the Son is as well."

"As would any loving mother," said Chamuel. "Why do all of us call him 'The Son' instead of Jesus?"

"Ask Raguel," replied Michael, with a look that said he had no idea himself.

"Because God so ordered it. He was talked about for many centuries, but our Father decided it would be his mother's privilege to name him. So, we all called him the 'Son' and it just sort of stuck."

Michael placed his sword across his knees, and his fingers began drumming an old Sumerian war tune along the blade. But, because he was Michael, a vision sprang up around them of the Sumerian Army marching to the beat of a hundred drummers.

"Brother," said Chamuel sourly, "You are spoiling the peace of this gorgeous place. Why?"

"I'm waiting for one or both of you to stop your nonsense and talk about how we're going to proceed after the slaughter of innocent children in Vuelda. Are we still going to look for Heaven's Missing? Are we officially taking over Heaven? Closing Heaven's Gate? Searching for the lost Vuelda victims to bring them back into the fold? Relocating heaven's multitudes to Valhalla, or Enlightenment, or Allah's tent? Reopening Eden, perhaps?"

"Was he always this dramatic?" asked Chamuel.

"Always. As Watcher, you wouldn't believe the things I've seen!" chuckled Raguel.

"You wouldn't dare!" shouted Michael, his voice causing a small rockfall to splash into the sea below.

"Put your sword down," said Chamuel, "You presented some ideas I hadn't thought of. Raguel, you're skilled in mediation. If there's a skill needed to bring those kids back to Heaven, and soothe their angry and troubled souls, it's yours. Michael, you've spent time travelling Earth and the Universe. Take Paul with you, if he's still around, and look for Heaven's missing. Start with the Archangels and work your way up. I'll stay here to greet new souls and keep its residents calm." 

"Hold," commanded Michael. "Who put you in charge?"

"Michael, it's possible that some of the Missing are in the thrall of one of the Greater demons, is it not? You are much better suited to win, if the situation calls for fighting, are you not?"

"You may occasionally be annoying, brother, but you were never lacking in wisdom. Jophiel always did favor you. I will go. I will seek out Gabriel, for we three will sorely need a messenger. Perhaps I can persuade him."

"I have no doubt. Be careful, and doubt not that we love you."

Michael bowed, saluted, and vanished in a golden streak of light.

A chorus line of cherubs appeared, screaming and mewling. "What on Earth are they shrieking about? I can't understand a word they're saying," shouted Chamuel.

Raguel waved his hand in a circle, and a screen appeared with a newscast:

"MSNBC reporter Michelle Raddow reporting live from New York City. Hundreds of calls have been pouring into the Bowery Police Department, saying that a local homeless man has been spotted flying over the area with...can you believe it: enormous white angel wings?"

"Oh, sweet Heavenly Father," cried Raguel, "I forgot all about the wings! This could be..."

"...disastrous! This one is all yours, brother!" Chamuel watched as his brother streaked away in a shaft of silver-grey light.

The cherubim chorus shrieked again, and he gently replied, "I will find some acolytes to change your diapers immediately. Now, just how many souls did you say are waiting at the Gate? That many?!"