The Traveler

I am Gabriel the MCCXXIII.

That's right, twelve-hundred and twenty-third in line since the first Gabriel. He was way back, at the start of time. No, the version humans knew and wrote about was Gabriel DCCXII, Sir Seven-hundred-twelve. Angelic to his pinky toe, my ancient ancestor was bold and brave, an archangel of great wisdom which spoke into dreams the divine word of our Lord, even spoke with Mary herself. To say I was his descendent wasn't the way it worked in the heavens.

I was him; he was me, we'd reincarnated twelve-hundred and twenty-three times. Each one of those lifetimes had taken thousands of years. Not that time passed in Heaven the same as it did on Earth. Thank you, my God, for that!

As it was, I was nothing special. My best friend Michael, yes, the Michael, believed differently, for I was born with the Angelic Number, destined to be the one to bring romance, love, profound emotions and unwavering optimism to all.

Young and handsome, if I did say so myself, I'd grown bored waiting for my grand love magic to activate. So far, I found that I was only good at one thing: I made the best vanilla cupcakes.