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A/N: It’s definite. This fic now has the side couple of Samael/Sunday. You asked for it, I was thinking of putting it in anyway, now we’re all happy. Yaoi love for all!
Sunday: …I AM TOTALLY NOT GAY FOR THAT FUCKING FAIRY. Dx
Me: xD
Also, this chapter is so CHEESY and CLICHÉ and STUPID that I can’t even read over it without wanting to PUKE. So THUMB’S UP FOR SHIT, I GUESS, HAHAHA.
Don’t mind me.
Warnings: Swearing swearing swearing…also, this chapter is a lot shorter then the latest ones. Deal with it, yo.
After a matter of minutes, assured of its host’s oblivion, it opened Samael’s eyes and looked around. The slow thick pulses of spiritual energy coming from the corner told it that two of Samael’s comrades were still asleep. Yet there was one aura that was sharp and alert, coiled and watchful…
“Alright, Sammie?” came a deep voice from the shadows. Samael smiled.
“I thought you were asleep…Sunday,” it replied, keeping its tone light.
“I thought the same of you, until you started talking to yourself.”
The hybrid tensed. Shit. “What did you hear?”
“Nothing,” the demon replied truthfully, “Your voice was too low and muffled. Ya didn’t sound happy, though.”
“How long…”
“To be honest, I did fall asleep after a minute or two…somethin’ about dealing with Mephisto just wears me out, for some reason.”
Samael’s darkness relaxed. The demon hadn’t heard the outburst. Things would be ok for a little while longer. It flickered through Samael’s mind, searching while its host slept, searching for the real answer to why Samael refused to save himself…save themselves…
Sunday was thinking of lighting a cigarette when he caught sight of Samael’s eyes. They weren’t focused on him, they seemed to be looking within somehow, but his demonic night vision noticed how they appeared to be quite…black. Not just the pupil but the whole iris itself.
He also sensed a strange energy coming from the hybrid. Something raw and dark. In fact-
“No.”
Samael was looking at him in mingled horror and disgust. He gripped his chest as if he meant to tear his own core out.
“He can’t…he lives for us…he and I, always!”
Sunday was on his feet, instantly tensed. What a good time for Samael to lose it, here and now when it was just them alone…
“Samael, I don’t know what you’re t-“
A blade cut into his neck. It should’ve been impossible for any being to move that fast, but here was the truth in front of him: Samael, dark-eyed, twitching and snarling, in the demon’s face.
“In a second, Samael, you’ll have nothing to live for,” the voice grated, and Sunday realised what was happening. His palm struck the blade as it sliced, so it missed his jugular and skinned his hand instead.
“Christing fuck,” he swore, and danced backwards. “Motherfucker, where’d you get that blade...”
Samael’s lips stretched and his hoisted up his wrist. A knife-edge sprang, growing from the bone itself.
“We’re divinely engineered,” the shadow whispered. “Reichiel forgot about this. We’re not your ordinary angel!” Samael’s beautiful face twisted. “And yet…how could he choose you over me? Over his own soul?”
“You crazy halfbreed shit, what are you on about?!” Sunday kicked Azirefel and Mephisto awake and they squawked indignantly. “Get up, assholes! Samael’s lost it!”
“Bzuh?” Mephisto muttered, then screamed as Samael attempted to skewer him. “Uwaaaaah! What? Hey!”
“Dammit.” Azirefel’s wrist blurred and light shone in his eyes but the hybrid was viciously quick and blocked the oncoming ice with ease.
“Hmph.” Samael’s eyes changed: for a moment they weren’t black but a horrible soulless red. Mephisto and Azirefel spasmed, then dropped the ground. Neither moved.
“I don’t care about them,” the Samael-thing whispered, watching as the Deep Lord stared at the bodies at his feet, “This is about me, you, and Samael.”
“I told you,” Sunday snarled, whipping his head around, voice sounding less human with every syllable, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Then you’re fucking blind!” Samael screamed at him, “You think if Samael was in his right mind he’d even think of going along with this whole stupid adventure? You think he wanted to help that little demon? Ha!!”
“I know that!” the demon yelled back, “He said it was because he wanted to mess up Heaven and Reichiel-“
“Maybe at first, you stupid little dirtcrawler, but why bother using you lot? He could destroy a whole plane of Heaven if he wanted to! He didn’t need you! He could’ve killed all of you any time he wanted – but no! Instead he hung around you because it made him feel accepted,” it went on scathingly, “As if he’d ever cared about that before in many millennia-”
“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” the demon muttered, and failed to see and evade the knuckles that smashed into his solar plexus. Samael pinned him to the floor with one fist, ignoring his captive’s retching.
“You blind, arrogant fuck,” the hybrid went on furiously, “You really didn’t notice, did you? At all!”
“N’tice…what…” Sunday grunted, not liking the splintering feeling in his lungs. Samael’s black eyes didn’t just look mad, they looked positively insane. He’d seen that look many times, mostly because he was the harbinger of it. It was never a nice feeling, having your own weapon turned against you.
“The looks, demon, the little glances he kept giving you? The veiled admiration? You never thought all those smacks he kept giving you might’ve been out of affection?”
Affection? Samael? The Loony Fairy? Pull the other one, mate, Sunday thought dazedlyAloud, he managed, “You’re kidding, right?”
He received a decidedly unaffectionate smack for his troubles.
“Blind, thick, and worthless!” the shadow screamed, punctuating each word with a blow to his captive’s vital organs, “Just like a demon! Good-for-nothing! Samael, you traitor!” With one hand he yanked the demon up bodily and held him against the wall.
“I have to spell it out, don’t I? Samael – has – a – crush – on – you, you worthless wormshit!”
Sunday blanked. The thought of Samael liking him was so inconceivable his mind gave up trying to conceive it.
“When you’re gone, he’ll have no one,” the Samael-thing breathed, “No one but me – as it should be. I was with him from the beginning…you’re just a usurper.”
The organic blade was back, not at the throat but on the chest where the demonic core lay concealed underneath. Samael’s darkness tensed the muscles, preparing to strike.
It jerked as three fingers were placed on its forehead in a gentle fashion. It looked up and Sunday bared his canines.
“Art of Binding Number Five: Devil’s Vice!”
Invisible iron bands constricted across Samael’s head, chest and legs. The pressure made his eyes bulge and his ribs crack. Screaming in his throat, he dropped the demon, reeled backwards, tripped over Mephisto and crashed to the ground.
“Fuck, fuck and cock,” Sunday cursed savagely, rubbing his beaten muscles. Samael going full out Black was bad enough, but now apparently the psychotic angel liked him as well. Oh gods, he really was blind. He should’ve made sure to read his horoscope on the day Mephisto ambushed him at the café. It’d probably said something like Be an anti-social bastard and on no account let any three-winged hybrids attack you and then fall in love with you.
“Yeah,” he thought aloud, “Something like that.”
He paid for his lapse in vigilance with a spike of pain from his scalp. Samael was behind him, freed of his binds – of course he is, Sunday thought, motherfucker’s indestructible – and wrenched him up by the hair. Purple bangs tickled his cheek.
“That was good,” the hybrid spoke in a low, admiring voice, “Very good. Silly me, I forgot you’d know high-level black magic…still, only one of a Seven Satan’s rank could take me on with a chance of winning. That leaves you with no chance at all, Deep Lord. Pity.”
A long arm wrapped around his waist.
“Did you know I could break your spine just by flexing my arm? Watch.”
It was if a steel bar was crushing his insides. He was about to release the seals on his human form – when the pressure stopped.
Vanish.
A hand gripped his shoulder with psychotic strength, fingers digging into the bone – the demon would’ve screamed had he not once been a soldier – but slowly the fingers began to peel away as if moved by some other force. The knuckles cracked as they were scraped off one by one.
How dare you interfere!
“Stop!!” the shadow-thing screamed, “You need this! You don’t NEED him! He’s a demon, what does he care? All you ever needed was me!!”
Traitor, we always acted together. As one. Now you wrested control from me and took over – I can never forgive you that.
“We were one until you saw him!” Samael’s mouth screamed, “He never did anything to you, never noticed you and yet you grew soft and suddenly forgot about me! Tell me, who is the traitor now?”
I can’t control my own heart, Samael spoke sadly, and Sunday felt an odd twinge in his chest. Over these many thousand years I’ve seen countless humans and angels and demons and fell in love with one or two…secret, private, stupid inexplicable infatuations…and no matter how I hard I try to close my heart, it won’t.
Sometimes it is so open I feel like I could fall in love with everything and everyone on this planet and still it wouldn’t be filled.
I curse it.
I can’t help what I feel.
“…”
You are me, my darkness, but you continually try to divide yourself from me. That is why you don’t understand.
“You loved me.”
I still do.
But did you think my first love had to be my only love?
Samael’s head stared upward, slack-jawed, with the oddest expression of disbelief and confusion. Then the mouth closed.
“Curse you,” it sighed, and crumpled to the floor.
---
Lucifer nodded to Himself as He pondered what He’d seen. Between His parted hands the vision of the cell began faded and the small figures disappeared. It was a very nice feeling, the Demon Lord reflected, to know that you were right all the time.
“How awkward for Balberith,” He thought aloud, “I’d made personally sure for all these thousands of years he’d be hated by everyone and then Samael comes in unexpectedly and ruins my fun…yet I always suspected…”
“Messing with your minions’ lives again, father?” Asmodeus drawled. “How very droll.”
“It’s a hobby, and one I enjoy. Do you think Balberith would be half the demon he is now if I hadn’t thrust such hardships on him?” Lucifer spread his palms again and this time a different vision appeared: Michael, flying at full speed, searing through the boundaries of space and time. His expression was one of rapturous delight and the promise of bloodshed.
“Bless his little heart,” Lucifer crooned. “Look, he’s going to kill everyone! Bless.”
“You should’ve made him a Fallen angel,” Asmodeus said admiringly. “What a demon he’d be!”
“Yes, I know…such a scourge…but no…too much of a boy scout…sad, really…”
Lucifer sat back on His throne under the dark eaves of His palace and pondered. Asmodeus and the rest of the Satans watched him hungrily.
“Say you’re going to interfere,” Asmodeus goaded. “Oh, let’s. Use this opportunity to start another war with Heaven.”
“No. I’ve just smoothed out my relationship with my brother and I don’t want to mess it up again.”
“Then what? You’ve been watching events in Heaven for hours!”
“I may help them out.”
The Satans moaned. Asmodeus drew an elegant hand to his brow as if he had a headache. “I’m sorry father, I’ve misheard. I thought I just heard you, Lucifer, The Devourer, Prince of This World, say He wanted to help the angels.”
“Not all the angels, only Michael. And Samael, I suppose. Remember we have our own kind in there, Asmodeus: Mephisto and Balberith…”
“You mean Mephistopheles?” Asmodeus said blankly. “The Mephistopheles? Isn’t he dead?”
“His grandson.”
“Ohh. Ah. Still…you never cared about that half-wit incubus before. And we can always promote another to Deep Lord of Misrule. Samael, alright, but them?”
“They amuse me.” Lucifer’s eyes glittered. “A little demon loses his angel lover, so he bullies some others into helping him and they storm into Heaven without a look back. They are either stupidly brave or just stupid. I used to think the latter but now…” He looked into His portal again, watching intently.
“Is it fate, do you think, or just coincidence?” He wondered aloud. “Or just dumb luck?”
“I don’t know.” Asmodeus sat on the dais, looking moody. The rest of the Satans had grown bored and were picking fights with one another. He watched as Carlyle sent Beelzebub flying down the hall.
“Perhaps it is fate,” Lucifer went on, ignoring His children, “for fate and destiny are orchestrated by God…” He chuckled. “So He thinks. More often then not, they’re controlled by me. And I have a few more strings to pull...”
“Goody. This is all starting to sound deliciously evil.”
---
Michael had forgotten just how long it took to reach Heaven’s spiritual plane when leaving from the material one. It seemed he had been flying for hours. But the Seraph was tireless and powered on, his six great wings beating.
The journey made his head cool a little, and he analyzed his options.
Well, he was going to smash though St. Peter’s Gate, obviously. There was no way he’d come back from death and ruin just to ask the guards if they would kindly let him in, please. You had to have style. And he liked smashing things.
He would probably be attacked once he breached Heaven, he mused. The SAF were under Reichiel’s command now and Michael knew personally that they had no concept of morality whatsoever. They were loyal to whoever wore the insignia of Great Powers, even if that person was Lucifer Himself. Well, he thought acidly, he would just have to beat some sense into them. Michael was respected for his mercy but right now he wasn’t feeling particularly merciful.
There was a gleam ahead in the darkness. The angel recognized it as the first portal into Heaven’s spiritual plane.
He put on an extra burst of speed.
---
The darkness of Samael went, subdued, to curl up in the far corners of his mind and let the other regain control. The world, which had greyed out, began to bleed back into colour and form and Samael opened his eyes, so to speak, with his eyelids still open. He felt sore and exhausted but that was all, and he struggled into a sitting position.
His gaze fell upon the deathly still Azirefel and Mephisto and then was drawn to the Deep Lord, a slumped shape against the dark wall.
“If that’s you, Samael,” the demon intoned sourly, “Then I’ll just let you know that next time I’m not gonna hold back, no matter how small it is in here. You’re gonna have all the plagues of Hell on your ass.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” His voice sounded more cracked and dry then he liked.
Sunday reached out with one foot and nudged Azirefel. “They’re alive. I checked. But they’re in some kinda coma – won’t wake up.”
Now that he was fully aware of what he’d done, embarrassment and shame crept up his spine and sat there heavily. Samael brought his pointer fingertips together in front of his nose, concentrating. For a brief second, his eyes glowed that eerie, lifeless red.
“What sorta magic was that?” Sunday said as casually as he could, watching as Mephisto blinked and twitched, “What sorta sway could drop an enemy in a blink of an eye?”
“Magic deeper then you know,” Samael said hoarsely. “But now’s not the time to speak of it.” He closed his eyes – he felt bone-tired and wanted nothing more then to sleep forever – but knowledge of what he’d done to his friends and the accompanying shame curdled in his stomach and kept him lucid.
“What did it say?” he murmured, so softly the Deep Lord barely heard him, “What did it tell you? I only heard it as if across a vast distance and couldn’t catch it all.” A thought occurred to him. “What did I say? Could you hear me?”
“Yeah,” Sunday said awkwardly. “Um. Yeah. Umm…y’see…”
“Asshole,” Azirefel hissed as he surged to his feet and made to swing at Samael. Sunday leant forward and grabbed his wings.
“Let go! Ouch!”
“He didn’t mean it, you frosty little bugger. So quit it.”
Azirefel looked mutinous but turned away and sat down again, regarding Samael.
The hybrid didn’t look well. Dark shadows nestled under his eyes and his skin had an unhealthy pallor and shine to it. Azirefel noticed that whenever Samael glanced over to Sunday, he would blush and dip his head in shame. The winter angel wondered exactly what had happened when he’d been unconscious.
Mephisto had noticed too, but had no tact to hold him back. “Oho. Ohohohoho. My incubus senses are tingling! I’m sensin’ some fuckin’ pheromones here.” He licked the air. “Now that’s a taste I like. Samael, Sunday…what did you dooo…”
“Nothing, you asswipe,” Sunday snapped. Samael was silent.
“Liar.” Mephisto stuck his tongue out. “I’m sensing some mixed feelings comin’ from ya two. It was inevitable, if you want my opinion. The four of us, crammed together in this small space for hours and hours…we had it comin’…can’t deny the sex appeal…but Sammie, I thought you had better taste then that…”
“Die,” the Deep Lord said in a low voice. Mephisto ignored him.
“No, really. Azirefel’s all cold and pretty and snooty…thought you woulda gone for him…but I guess you’re not into young boys…”
“Pervert!” Azirefel hissed.
“…looks like Sammie’s into the more macho, rugged stuff if you get my meaning…prefers his guys all hard and manly…yup…bit of the ol’ rough treatment…oh, what am I saying? Let’s get to the point.” Mephisto clapped his hands excitedly. “So! When it happened…how was it?”
“There was no ‘it’,” Samael muttered.
“Shut up, there wasn’t! Pheromones don’t lie! And you,” the young demon stabbed a finger at the Deep Lord, “All those years telling me ‘Sorry kid, I don’t swing that way,’ what the hell! Liar! Jerk!!”
“Well, I don’t!”
“So you deny the ‘it’…”
“There was no ‘IT’!!”
“There’s always an ‘it’, Sunday, you dickweed. Some spark. Somethin’ that started the tension! What was it??”
“Nothing. I just got beat up. Again.”
“Ah,” Mephisto said smugly. “Foreplay.”
“Sod you.”
Mephisto changed victims. “So, Sammie…”
“Leave him alone,” Azirefel said quietly. “The time for joking has passed.”
The winter angel stood and looked at the walls surrounding them. “I know I’ve said this before but…” he sighed, “Is there really no way of getting out of here?”
“These walls are specially fortified with a kind of mineral element that repels angelic and demonic energy,” Samael spoke up, glad to have topic changed. He hesitated.
“But?” Azirefel persisted, watching him carefully.
“But…I just maybe can do it. Break the barriers, I mean. Reichiel clearly hadn’t thought our incarceration through…he should’ve known that I had a chance of escaping. My astral energy is a third kind entirely, neither solely angelic nor demonic. Then again, I suppose he put me here because he knew I wouldn’t do it,” Samael finished bitterly.
“The hell?” Mephisto complained. “If you could bust us out, why didn’t you say so?”
“Because,” Samael hissed, resisting the urge to snarl, “to do so would cause a massive explosion that would wipe out anyone within a mile radius. And, right now, I’m not certain I have the strength. I’d probably die in the attempt. Ok?”
Samael slumped back wearily as the other three started arguing over their best chance to escape.
They’ve forgotten that Nemphis is incarcerated too. They don’t know he’s a hybrid – a complete, perfect, healthy hybrid with powers just brimming to be released…
A hybrid on his own locked away…in a cell just like ours…
How long until he can master himself and figure it out?
He contemplated contacting Nemphis again to hint and encourage. Best not too.
And I have a more personal problem on my hands.
Samael cut his eyes over to Sunday.
He knows but hasn’t said anything. It’s impossible to talk privately. I’m afraid of scaring him away. I may have done that already.
Oh God, I don’t know what to do.
---
Reichiel stood on a small hovering platform in the center of a long shaft, the bottom beginning ten feet below him and extending up for a mile. Screens of different sizes flashed on and off along the shaft’s walls, relaying news from Heaven and Earth, astral feeds coming in from all seven Spheres.
“The Wyngberg’s Reconnaissance and Information nexus really has grown,” the Cherub mused aloud. He reached out and a holoscreen projected itself from the wall. It hovered a foot from his face.
“This is Great Powers Reichiel. I request a direct connection to the Metatron.” He licked dry lips.
“State your authorisation code,” the screen commanded.
“Authorisation 0-270, Military Type A.”
“Please wait while the system connects to the Premium Mobile…”
Reichiel narrowed his tiger eyes. It was highly likely that Metatron, in his pride, would shut him out.
“Connection established to the Metatron.”
The screen filled with a white-hot light. A timer appeared in the bottom-right corner: 2:50.
Such was Metatron’s might that any angel who wasn’t a Seraph couldn’t bear to be in his presence without going blind after a minute.
The pillar of flame spoke: “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Funny. I have something to say to you. You’ll find it interesting, I promise.”
“You’re after God’s Throne. I know that. You won’t get it, Reichiel. To rule here, you must have the willing cooperation of the Elementals, the Saints, and the Seven Virtues. What do you think you can accomplish using force?”
“I have a weapon.” He savored those words.
“Powerful as the Army’s arsenal is, there is no weapon in there that can best me. I am God’s ultimate weapon: He named me the Lesser Yahweh: the Tetragrammaton. I sit at the center of Creation in God’s right hand.
“I am the Metatron.
“Give yourself up, Reichiel, and Jesus may just be merciful.”
Reichiel stared defiantly into the fires, daring his smarting eyes to blink.
“I have a hybrid.”
Metatron hesitated.
“Samael is formidable, but unstable. You would use him in that manner?”
“Not Samael. Samael has been branded Judas and left to rot in darkness.” Reichiel’s eyes glanced downward: 1:47.
“You lie: there is no other!” the Voice thundered, and the warrior angel actually felt the Sphere shake around him. Something like fear began to pool in his stomach. “Project SAMAEL was a failure, and shut down millennia ago because God realised what He was creating - the prototypes, the data, the engineering blueprints, the technology – all destroyed and the angels on the project team had their memories wiped-”
“Am I addressing God right now?” Reichiel snarled. “Let me talk to Him! I want His ears to hear this!” He let the flames caressing his body flare.
“Of course,” Metatron said quietly. “I am the Voice of God. I am His Word, His Speech. God moves in me. Speaks through me. He hears all.”
“Hears, but doesn’t listen. Let. Me. Speak. To. Him. Let Him speak to me.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Reichiel,” Metatron said softly.
“I do.”
“You don’t. Do you think you can stand to address Yahweh and walk away unscathed?”
“Damn you, Metatron, do as I say!”
Silence. Reichiel felt a sudden sensation of disconnection. Time seemed to slow and spread like water as something moved behind it – something so vast it distorted reality around it. He gasped as the molecules of his being vibrated and chattered.
“So be it, fool.”
The screen blanked out.
Then one by one, the entire nexus closed its monitors.
SPEAK TO ME, REICHIEL. YAHWEH IS LISTENING.
---
“What was that?” Nemphis whispered.
His darkness leant back and cocked an ear.
“It felt like…something huge…” the angel muttered, unconsciously putting his arms around himself. He felt like a swimmer bobbing on the surface of the ocean who has just sensed the pull and mass of some leviathan creature below. As if a portion of the universe itself had shifted.
The scary thing was that he knew he shouldn’t be able to feel anything of the sort: these walls contained a mineral which blocked spiritual energy. To feel such a current the conductor would have to be extremely powerful. Nemphis shivered.
It is Yahwehhis darkness told him, Yahweh, El, Jove, He Who Walks Above – Yahweh is coming.
“For who?”
Who knows? His enemies? His believers? When He chooses to appear, it is usually a time of reckoning
“How do you know that? I mean, I don’t know that.”
Never mind. That’s unimportant. Choose, Nemphis. Choose me and accept me…
“I can’t,” Nemphis said miserably. “I’m frightened.”
There are those who are born with their darkness in them. It either rules them or walks alongside them, from conception to death. Do you think they had a choice?
I was conceived the moment you lay with that demon. You’re not a true angel any longer – nor are you a demon. You are a hybrid.
“An abomination.”
No. Amiracle
Nemphis’ eyes widened.
Do you know Chinese symbol, the Yin-Yang
He shook his head.
It is a circle, half white, half black. And in each section, a smaller circle of the opposing color. One is always present in the other. A symbol of opposing but complementary forces.
It also means ‘harmony.’ Opposites in perfect harmony.
That is the secret. That is the filthy truthThe shadow-Nemphis smiled dreamily. We are the miracle of miracles.
Choose.
Nemphis raised his arms.
Oh and HAHAHA Sunday's 'Art of Binding' thing was just so BLEACH I almost peed myself. I'm the only person who watches BLEACH here, right? No one else is an anime whore? Right. Sigh.
