I grasped the gates of heaven and shook it, not at all surprised that it refused to yield to my grip. I smirked, the bouts of crazed laughter kept at bay by the sardonic smile I flashed at it.

How amusing. As if He could really think to keep me and my Legion from coming home to cut off His head.

 "Samael."

I cocked my head, staring beyond the gate where the voice had come from. Nothing indicated even a hint of my brother's presence but I knew he was there - watching, waiting.

"Won't you join me on the other side, Michael? I'm loathe to run my blade through your non-existent heart but I will do it nonetheless."

"Father may yet forgive your blasphemy." The voice was soft, welcoming. It was the kind of voice one would not expect the angel of death to have.

"I don't need forgiveness," I snarled. "I'm better than anything He deigns to give. I'm above everything He has to offer."

I felt the keen point of his sword press into my throat. I followed the length of the blade to the angel that held it and I almost faltered at the sight.

Michael - the brother who'd always borne the heaviest burden - was covered in his armored glory save for his head. Blonde locks framed his cherubic face, his moonstone eyes empty of emotion.

"Careful, brother," he warned. "All that protects you from a swift death is Father's mercy and that is sure to disappear if you breach the gates."

"When," I corrected, "I breach the gates." I gestured behind me. Thousands upon thousands of angels stood behind me, the state of their bloodied and violent mess proof of the bloodshed they'd had to wade through to get to the last obstacle that stood in their way - my way.

"You will lose, Samael," he whispered. "You will die."

I stepped back, startled. My brother, driven solely by duty and nothing else - the brother that showed the barest of emotion - was looking at me with a raw desperation that I was unused to seeing on him.

A sliver of regret stirred in the pit of my stomach and I crushed it immediately.

"I've come too far," I responded. "I've killed too many," I added in a gentler tone.

His gaze hardened. "That is nobody's fault but your own. We are His children-"

"We are His tools," I argued. "Those humans are His children more than we ever will. We should be just as blessed as them, just as free." I pushed against the gate, the tip of his sword now drawing blood. He did not waver. He did not stray. I didn't care. "Michael, you more than anyone should understand me. The Archangel of Death. The Harbinger of Destruction."

He regarded me smoothly, withdrawing his sword before plunging it into the ground in front of him. He wrapped both hands around the hilt and squared himself as his halo stretched and warped until it covered the entirety of his face.

"What you speak of is not freedom, Samael. It is rebellion and I vow to see to it that the only glory you are given is the glory of leading your Legion straight into the depths of hell."

I narrowed my eyes turning my back on him. "So be it. Better to reign free in hell than remain subjugated in heaven."

I locked eyes with my generals - four who commanded the forces of my revolution. We would overthrow the Creator or die trying.

And many, did indeed, die trying.