Angels Don't Cry

Disclaimer: They are not mine. I am merely playing with them because they're soooo pretty. ^_^

*****

He awoke to a furious pain in his chest and clutched at it with frantic fingers, probing for the hole that was surely there. Nothing. His questing fingertips met only smooth skin, uninterrupted flesh. He took a deep breath and the pain stabbed through him again. Gasping, he curled in on himself, bringing large wings around to cocoon his body and protect him from whatever was out there. Wings? I have wings.

He was silent for a long time, crouched unmoving on the floor. It was cool beneath his bare feet, and smooth as polished marble but in the dark casing of his wings he couldn’t see what it was made of. Occasionally, he would reach out to brush the soft feathers surrounding him, but he didn’t speculate on them. Too much time had gone by and too many things had happened for him to question such a simple thing as his wings. That they were back was enough for him.

The silence eventually grew unnerving, buzzing in his ears like a swarm of locusts, and he indulged in a moment of wonder at how impatient he had become. He realized, then, that the silence in this place was absolute; he could discern no heartbeat, not even his, and the ever present sound of the Word was gone from the back of his mind. He sprang to his feet then, wings thrown out to their full span, and stared around the room, quivering with fury.

A man stood before him, not more than three feet away, and he contemplated briefly how the thing had escaped his notice. He wondered how long the man had been standing there, which led to the question of how long he’d been in this room. It couldn’t have been more than an hour and yet he got the feeling that time had no meaning here, not as he understood it. Best not to question, then, and so he fixed the man with his gaze, expecting him to avert his eyes as countless others had done before him. But the man only smiled, a quietly sinister curve of his lips, and advanced.

“So, Gabriel, you’ve rejoined us at last,” he murmured and although the man spoke softly, he could hear every word as clear as a bell. Gabriel…That must mean him. Yes, he remembered now. He was Gabriel and had been since the beginning of Time. But who was this strange human who spoke to him so familiarly? Gabriel recognized him somewhere in the back of his mind, and with every word the man spoke he remembered a little bit more. “Oh, little angel, don’t look so confused. I’ll take good care of you here. You’re one of mine now.”

“Lucifer?” The name finally surfaced, burning his tongue as he spoke it and he remembered everything. How he had made war in Heaven, how he had betrayed his friends and comrads, how he had gone to Earth to find the dark soul and how Lucifer had taken his heart there at the end. The crushing realization was almost too much for him to bear and he gasped, wrapping his arms around his naked torso. Lucifer stopped mere inches from him, the smile still on his mouth.

“Yes, Gabriel,” he whispered, his voice full of the hiss of fire. “You’ve been cast down.” The satisfaction in his dark eyes was complete and although Gabriel wanted only to curl himself into a tight ball on the floor, he forced himself to stand tall and match Lucifer’s gaze. The Devil reached out to him, running hot fingers up his arms and over his shoulders to grasp the base of his wings. A moment’s confusion was all Gabriel had time for and then Lucifer was pulling, harder than he had a right to and searing pain became the angel’s world.

Within the haze of red, he could feel something ripping in his back and trickling down his spine. A crunching, squelching noise reached his ears over the roaring in his mind and a strange cramping seized his midsection. It was so foreign, so painful, that Gabriel doubled over, gagging and choking. The convulsions in his throat gave a clue as to what was happening and dimly he thought he might be throwing up. But only humans did that and there was nothing coming out…

The pain eased slightly, although he still shuddered and heaved up air, and he realized that he had sunk to his knees on the cold, smooth floor. He moved to rise, then, unwilling to give Lucifer the satisfaction of seeing him debased on the ground, but a new pain in his back, sharp and biting like a thousand swords brought him down again. He curled on the floor, fighting to keep from whimpering, and reached back. It was agonizing and slow, but he managed to brush between his shoulders with his fingertips, finding it a mangled mess of flesh and bone. His hand, when he brought it back around to his face, was covered in blood.

He screamed then, ashamed and frightened, calling a wordless plea to Heaven. *sorrysosorrypleaselordididn’tmeanitsosorrydon’tleavemeheresimon* Through his cries, he heard Lucifer’s retreating footsteps and, knowing that he had left, Gabriel swallowed his pride and remained on the floor. He thought, perhaps, it might be a bad idea to move in his present state although he wasn’t sure what his present state was. He had felt pain before, but nothing like this, and the blood on his hands was red. Human blood, not angel. Was this his punishment then? To be as they were but without the comfort of a soul? It was fitting and so he was silent, curled on the floor in a congealing pool of blood.

Gabriel had no concept of time within the room, so he didn’t know how long it took his back to heal. Every once in a while he would shrug his shoulders and eventually the pain grew less severe. When he braved it and reached back to touch the place his wings had obeenbeen, he found a large, crusted scab. That, too, vanished gradually until he was able to stand and move as he once had. There remained a scar, however, a reminder of his past permanently imprinted on his flesh. He could feel it when he reached back, a slightly raised mass of tissue resting between his shoulderblades and, since he had nothing better to do, most of his time he sat on his heels and fingered the scar, fighting back the feeling of helpless abandonment that was growing to epic proportions in his breast.

He slept, sometimes, a thing he had never done before. Angels had no use for sleep, but Gabriel found it strangely soothing and it helped to pass large chunks of time, or so he assumed. He dreamed when he slept and was glad for it, for the dreams kept him from madness. They were of Heaven and the way things had been before, but mostly they were of Simon. Simon, with his red-gold hair and his clear blue eyes and his soft, eager mouth. They were of Simon’s touch and Simon’s breath and Simon’s voice and he woke from them, weeping without tears and hating himself for whe hae had done. Poor sweet Simon. His Simon.

Lucifer came back shortly after he had healed. Gabriel opened his eyes and the Devil was there, looking down at him with his dark head cocked like a bird. His smile, when he saw Gabriel’s eyes open, grew until every tooth in his head showed glittering white and his hands found Gabriel’s shoulders, yanking him to his feet. They stood then, eye to eye, and said nothing. The stink of fire was on Lucifer and something else, a heady aroma that reminded Gabriel of cinnamon and vanilla.

“So, back on your feet, little angel,” Lucifer growled. “How nice to see you again.” Gabriel did not flinch from the fallen angel’s gaze, although he wanted nothing more than to draw back so that the Devil would be forced to relinquish his grip. His hands on Gabriel’s shoulders were unpleasantly warm and very dry.

“Just tell me what you want, Morningstar,” he replied coldly. “I have no patience for your games.” Lucifer laughed then and his breath was warm and sweet. He leaned close to Gabriel and inhaled.

“You smell like you always did, little angel. Like rain and ice and snow.” Lucifer licked his lips hungrily and his black eyes devoured Gabriel’s face. “So cold on the outside, but inside you’re on fire, aren’t you? There was always a passion in you, little angel, a passion that the others never had.”

Gabriel tried to draw away then, frightened by Lucifer’s words and by the look in his eyes. Lucifer’s large hands clamped down like vises on Gabriel’s slender shoulders and drew him close and pressed against the fallen angel’s body, Gabriel experienced a stirring he had not felt since last he and Simon had come together.

“Yes.” Lucifer’s words were the hissing of a snake, sibilant and persuasive. “I can feel it crawling under your skin, little angel. Its been a long time since I had another of my kind. A very, very long time.” Gabriel shuddered and pressed his face into Lucifer’s shoulder, trying to deny the pure animal lust that smouldered inside him. He tried desperatly to tell himself no, but the barriers were slowly crumbling and as he fought himself Lucifer’s clothes crumbled to dust under his fingers.

The heat from the fallen angel was so intense that Gabriel was sure his skin blistered, but he welcomed the pain, melting into it. It was a cleansing heat, a benediction, and when Lucifer’s lips found his, he parted them gladly. Scorching hands made their way up and down Gabriel’s slender body, grasping and stroking with a bruising intensity. Mind whirling, he responded in kind, arching his back wantonly and throwing his head back to bare his neck to Lucifer’s sharp teeth.

They rose from the floor and whether it was his doing or Lucifer’s, Gabriel couldn’t tell. His fingers sought Lucifer’s hair and tangled in its thick dark waves, luxuriating in the wealth of sensation that the seemingly simple gesture brought. Their legs twined together, the friction sending waves of absolute pleasure coursing through Gabriel’s body. It wasn’t sexual pleasure, not in the usual sense. Human pleasure was designed to make them want sexual contact, to further the species. For an angel, though, it was pleasure for pleasure’s sake, a temporary merging of being that was as extraordinary as it was addictive.

Gabriel thrashed wildly in Lucifer’s arms, attempting to contort in a manner that would allow every square inch of his skin to touch the fallen angel’s. It had been a long time for him as well. Since Simon he had felt the need but never had been able to bring himself to act on it. Even though they were enemies it had felt like betrayal because deep in his heart Gabriel still loved Simon, always had. But this…it was so different than it had been with Simon. With Simon he had done all the taking, he had been in control. Simon was compliant, submissive, and Gabriel had been the passionate one. Now, though, he was the one being held and stroked and dominated and, as humiliating as it was, he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop.

Lucifer’s rough fingers traced Gabriel’s spine, pressing hard against the scar between his shoulders. Gabriel gasped as the tingling electricity that hearalded an angel’s version of orgasm raced down his nerve endings. Lucifer’s beautiful lips parted in an expression that was as much awe as it was ecstasy as his hard body convulsed beneath Gabriel’s hands. Gabriel threw his head back and screamed his pleasure to the heavens. The sound echoed through the room and mingled with Lucifer’s cries until the two were indistinguishable.

The first thing he was aware of were his feet touching the smooth floor. He opened his eyes carefully as Lucifer stepped away, fully clothed again. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to; all the communication that was necessary took place in their eyes. Gabriel saw no love in the Devil’s gaze, only a dark satisfaction and possession that chilled him to the bone. Now that it was all over and the fires within him had been quenched, Gabriel realized that this had been Lucifer’s way of claiming him, owning him. And it had worked. Gabriel could never go back now, could never be the same as he had been. He was marked by the scent of the other angel as he had once been marked by Simon. He belonged here now, one of Lucifer’s minions.

Bowing his head in a gesture of defeat and submission, Gabriel waited. Lucifer’s fingers brushed the back of his neck in a soft, almost gentle, gesture and then he was gone, stalking out of the room by some door that Gabriel had never seen. He didn’t suppose it mattered. Even if he got out, there was nowhere for him to go, no one for him to reach out to. Simon was back in Heaven, his mortal body killed by Gabriel’s treachery. A wetness stained the angel’s cheeks and absently, his tongue flickered out to catch it. Salty. It must be a tear. He’d seen humans cry before, had tasted their tears although it was strange to know that these were his. Angels don’t cry.

With a sigh, Gabriel curled up on the floor. Angels don’t cry but you aren’t an angel anymore. Every day you spend in here your body becomes more human. Soon you’ll be one of them… Strangely, not even his impending humanity could summon a reaction greater than mild discomfort. He was too distracted by the lingering smell of vanilla and cinnamon on his skin and the persistant feeling of tears running down his cheeks in a hot river.

When he finally slept, Gabriel dreamt of Simon. In his dream there ere together again. And they were happy.