Kyle fell asleep with a contented grin, the memory of Lucas's flushed and beautiful expression in the heat of their shared intimacy vividly etched in his mind. The way Lucas had surrendered, the trust and vulnerability at that moment, felt like more than just passion; it was a quiet promise of tenderness, of something enduring. Kyle felt like he was truly home for the first time in centuries.

Yet, as sleep began to claim him, a shadow of guilt crept in. He hadn't opened up to Lucas in the same way—not entirely. He'd shared glimpses and offered fragments of his long, storied past, but there was so much more. The supernatural world they inhabited was vast, its history tangled with his own. And his lovers? Considering his age, there weren't as many as one might expect, but there were enough. Enough to make Kyle wonder if Lucas could ever truly understand just how much he meant to him now, how deeply Kyle longed to see his entire life reflected in Lucas's brown eyes.

As his consciousness drifted, the faint rhythm of Lucas's steady breathing at his side faded into the distance. A familiar sensation began to pull at the edges of his mind, one he hadn't felt in years—a subtle tug, like the tide drawing him toward an ancient shore. The air grew heavy and thick with the scent of salt and rain, and a soft glow flickered behind his closed eyelids.

When Kyle opened his eyes, he wasn't in their apartment. He stood on a rocky coastline, waves crashing violently against jagged cliffs. The sky above was a stormy swirl of grays and blacks, pierced by occasional streaks of golden light. The dreamscape felt alive, its chaotic and ancient energy and Kyle's heart sank. This place, this memory, wasn't one he would have chosen to revisit.

But it probably was one of the three that hurt the most.

He had been here countless times before wandering the expanse of memories that refused to fade. But tonight, something was different. There was a warm presence—Lucas. Even here, in the depths of his dreams, Kyle could feel the unmistakable spark of Lucas's connection. The boundaries between their minds had grown thinner, their shared magic weaving a fragile, luminous thread.

Kyle was dressed in a black, form-fitting coat that rippled unnaturally as though stirred by a wind only he could feel. His steps were purposeful but cautious as he crossed the barren near the tower; the grass blackened and wilted. The sky above it churned with storm clouds that seemed alive.

"Kyle... where are we?"

Lucas. His brown eyes, wide with wonder, gazed at the scene unfolding before them. For a moment, Kyle hesitated, unsure of how much he wanted to reveal. But as he turned to Lucas, the vulnerability in his expression softened Kyle's resolve.

"This," Kyle said quietly, gesturing toward the stormy horizon, "is a memory. A part of my past. A time when Michael and I—" He paused, swallowing hard, his golden eyes flickering as if searching for the right words. "—when we made a choice that would change everything."

"Your brother is here?" Lucas tried to process what Kyle had told him before.

Kyle's expression was one of grim determination, but his shoulders were tense. "Not in the dream like you and I, but in my memories. He must be about to appear; we came to investigate this storm, this fortress. You can also feel it. This was no ordinary storm." 

Lucas nodded slowly. "What's this magic?"

"Chaos," Kyle mumbled. "Long ago, a fallen angel tried to wield chaos magic, recruiting djinns and other fearful beings. They failed, of course, returning twisted and broken. But their descendants forged this magic into weapons, artifacts—tools to destabilize the mortal world. Balor, their leader, lived in that fortress."

The air was thick with the scent of brine and something acrid, like burnt ozone. Each crash of the waves against the jagged cliffs sent a fine mist into the air, cool and biting against Lucas's skin. The storm above churned with an almost sentient fury, the chaos magic crackling like distant laughter. Lucas remembered his dream about Agent Teufel, the fallen angel who tried to torture Lucas. His chest felt uneasy, but he said nothing to Kyle, letting him continue. 

A flash of golden light burst on the shore, and a winged figure descended, clad in shimmering armor that reflected the chaotic sky's lightning. His vast and radiant wings contrasted with the tower's dark energy. His expression was severe, and his green eyes were fixed on Kyle with immediate suspicion.

"Brother," Michael said, his voice cutting through the tumult like a blade. "Why am I not surprised to find you here?"

Kyle had no choice but to follow what he had said and done in the past. He smirked. "Oh, hello, Michael. I'd say it's a pleasure, but we both know that would be a lie."

When Michael descended, Lucas couldn't help but feel anger for Kyle. The blond angel radiated authority, but there was a stiffness, an air of judgment that felt almost suffocating. Yet, even as they clashed, Lucas caught the flicker of something else in Michael's expression—a softness, a hesitation that hinted at emotions he wasn't willing to show.

Michael strode closer, his presence commanding, the faint glow of his aura pushing back the oppressive chaos energy. "Stay out of this. You've meddled enough with matters beyond your station."

Kyle finally turned to face him, his smirk hardening into a defensive glare. "Meddled? This is chaos magic; you are not equipped to deal with this. Don't you have some mortal to harass?"

The air around them buzzed with energy, remnants of chaos magic twirling like gentle tendrils around their contrasting forces. Kyle's fingers danced with a soft flicker of fire while Michael's wings flared slightly, hinting at his mounting frustration.

"I'm here because something's brewing," Kyle said sharply. "Balor is up to something big, and unless you've suddenly decided to start sharing intelligence, I'm going to find out what."

Michael's expression darkened. "This isn't your concern. You've done enough damage in the past with your reckless choices."

Kyle took a step forward, his voice low and biting. "Reckless? Better try to do something than do nothing like you. What do you tell yourself when you must carry the souls of Danu's children you've failed to save because you were too busy waiting for permission to act?"

Michael's patience snapped. He dashed, swinging his sword in a controlled arc. Kyle dodged effortlessly, his movements fluid and almost lazy, as though anticipating every strike.

"Still the obedient lapdog, I see; go home and forget us," Kyle taunted, summoning a barrier of flames to block Michael's next attack. The fire burnt a brilliant green, reflecting the chaos magic saturating the air.

Michael didn't respond verbally but pressed his attack, his sword slicing through the flames with a burst of holy light. The ground beneath them cracked from the force of their clash, and the nearby waves surged higher as though drawn into their conflict. "No, I'm here because lives are at stake."

Kyle's gaze narrowed. "So am I," he said softly, the sarcasm gone from his tone. "There's something dark brewing here, not just chaos magic. You've felt it, too."

Lucas's chest tightened as Kyle and Michael's forces collided, chaos magic sparking against holy light. He wanted to step in, to shield Kyle somehow, but he was rooted in place—watching Kyle fight—a mixture of elegance and raw power. It was mesmerizing and terrifying.

The storm clouds churned violently, and a massive bolt of chaos-infused lightning struck the ocean nearby. Both men turned instinctively toward the sound, their tension momentarily forgotten.

From the tower, Balor's enraged voice echoes, and in the next moment, they saw him throw an infant into the turbulent waves below.

Lucas's breath hitched as the storm swallowed the baby's wail. All he could feel for a moment was the sickening weight of helplessness. The chaos magic crackling in the air felt colder, sharper—like it had burrowed into his chest. How could anyone, even a monster like Balor, do that?

Kyle reacted instantly, his form blurring as he teleported to the water's edge. He dove into the churning sea, his magic pushing back the chaos to reach the sinking infant. The baby was tiny, barely a few days old, his cries swallowed by the storm. Kyle scooped him up, cradling him protectively as he resurfaced.

Michael descended beside him, his wings shielding them from the chaotic storm. For a moment, their animosity was replaced by a shared purpose.

Kyle stood chest-deep in the icy waves, the infant cradled tightly against him. The storm raged on, chaos magic crackling in the air. His golden eyes flicked to Michael, whose outstretched hands trembled slightly—just enough for Kyle to notice.

"Give him to me; I will protect him," Michael demanded, his voice steady though his expression betrayed a trace of urgency.

"Protect him?" Kyle asked, his tone biting. "Like you protected his mother?" His words cut deep, and he saw Michael flinch. "If I give him to you, don't you dare turn him into a martyr?"

Kyle tightened his grip, the baby's fragile body warm against his chest. For a moment, the cries of Ethniu's son drowned out the storm's roar. Kyle's mind raced. Michael had failed before—had stood by, bound by Heaven's decree, while Danu's children were slaughtered. Would this be any different? Could Michael truly protect the boy without letting his ideals twist him into a pawn of Heaven?

But as Kyle hesitated, the infant's cries softened, his tiny fingers curling around Kyle's coat. His weight was staggering, not because of his size, but because of what he represented—a chance to undo past failures, to save one soul amidst the chaos. Could Michael, bound by his ideals, truly protect him?

Kyle felt the weight of countless failures pressing against his chest. Not again. No more souls lost because of chaos magic and the feud between Heaven and Hell. He looked at Michael, his golden eyes hardening. This boy couldn't become another tally in a centuries-old feud.

Lucas watched the memory unfold, his chest tightening as the infant's cries echoed against the crashing waves. His brown eyes followed Kyle's every move—the way he dove into the chaos without hesitation, the sheer determination etched into his golden gaze. There was something almost heartbreaking about the sight of Kyle cradling the baby, his face a mix of tenderness and pain.

Lucas had seen Kyle confident, flirtatious, and teasing, but this? This was different. There was no smirk or playful charm here. This was Kyle stripped bare—reckless, protective, vulnerable. It made Lucas's throat tighten with emotion. This was Kyle in Lilith's cabin, the fallen one who lay in his bed truly naked.

 A pang of inadequacy tugged at Lucas. Could he be enough for someone like Kyle, who had faced centuries of hard choices? Yet, seeing Kyle cradle the infant, his golden eyes filled with pain and hope, Lucas felt an undeniable pull. He chose me, Lucas thought. I have to believe in that.

Kyle looked into Michael's green eyes, seeing not just the angel's righteous determination but also something raw and vulnerable. For all his posturing, Michael wanted to protect this child, too. Kyle exhaled, his voice low but sharp.

Michael's hands trembled as he reached for the child, the weight of the moment pressing against him like the storm's chaotic air. His breath hitched, and his fingers brushed the blanket with an unfamiliar gentleness. 

As he cradled the infant, his grip steadied, and the boy's cries softened against him. Michael's wings unfurled slightly, forming a protective cocoon around the fragile life in his arms. A shudder coursed through him as he gazed down at the tiny face, the storm's roar fading into the background. 

Kyle watched him momentarily, his usual smirk replaced by something more serious. "You'll need help raising him," Kyle said quietly. "You don't have to do this alone."

When Kyle finally handed the child over, Lucas's heart lurched. He could see the conflict in Kyle's body language—the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers lingered on the baby before letting go. Kyle's voice was steady, but Lucas could feel the weight of his words.

Michael looked at Kyle, surprised but silent. "Thank you. I think he needs some food first. Milk, maybe?" They stood together on the shore, the chaos storm beginning to subside, as though acknowledging their fragile alliance.

Lucas watched Michael cradle the infant, the angel's stern façade cracking just enough to reveal something more profound—care, maybe even love. This didn't erase the angel's harshness or make him any less intimidating, but it added another dimension—one Lucas hadn't expected. It made him human—or close enough. For the first time, Lucas wondered if Kyle's disdain for Michael wasn't rooted in hatred but in the heartbreak of a brother he once trusted.

Lucas's breath hitched as the storm began to subside. The two brothers stood side by side for a fleeting, fragile truce. The image of them together—their contrasting light and shadows—burned into Lucas's mind.

As the dreamscape dissolved, Lucas turned to Kyle, his emotions tangled with awe, anger, and curiosity. He reached out, his fingers brushing against Kyle's arm, grounding himself in the warmth of his touch.

"You saved him," Lucas whispered, his voice trembling with admiration and disbelief. "You dove into the ocean to save a child... even though it wasn't your responsibility." He squeezed Kyle's hand. "Are you always this reckless?"

Kyle's golden eyes softened, and he gave a small, almost self-deprecating smile. "I couldn't stand by and do nothing. Not when I could make a difference."

Lucas searched his face, his thoughts spinning. He had some recollections of Celtic mythology, so the names in Kyle's recollection rang some bells. But he had to ask Kyle later, "What's with all those mythological beings entangled in his life? How much weight is he carrying?" Until then, he hadn't fully grasped the idea, but Kyle's life had been very long, and his weight was as big as the ocean itself. Could he give him the love he craved?

And then there was Michael. After witnessing this memory, he questioned his assumptions.

"So, Michael does care," Lucas said, his voice quieter now. "About more than Heaven's rules."

Kyle's expression grew unreadable, his gaze flickering to the distant horizon of the dreamscape. "Michael cares. But his care is... complicated. It's always tangled with duty, with what he thinks is 'right.'"

Kyle sighed. "The problem is that his right sometimes leads to heartbreak." He took Lucas's hand as memories faded and a thousand images flickered around them. Lucas took a deep breath as he tried to process what he saw: a toddler that later became an infant and a teenager, beautiful and energetic, a spark of mischief in his eyes.