xD the blasphemy. anyways, the whole idea is that whena world is born, gods are assigned to us and 'lance' is a new god and gets to be in charge this time around. it's just a job, and the other gods assigned to earth had done it before. i hope that explains some of it. the rest...eh..not for the religious, i guess.

xx.

the long home;;

because sometimes we are gone for a very long time.

xx.

The world was born in a warm, white, glow. No bang, no fire and brimstone, no chorus of angelic voices. The young god surveyed the earth, and, being all-knowing and all-seeing, knew he would need help to control the world left in his stewardship. The other gods chortled when he told them of his decision, but let him go on; it is only through mistakes that any knowledge is gained.

Lucifel was the first, the brightest, the beloved Morningstar, light bearer. Michael, the flame of righteousness, the proverbial right hand of god, followed, and Gabriel, angel of the annunciation behind him. Still more came; Raphael, the gentle healer, Uriel, Azriel, Zaphikiel, myriad other names that god himself was not concerned with. He had his four archangels; that was enough.

He did not know that the older gods, old men with their wrinkles and older women who looked as young as he, whispered behind their hands of his folly, of how obviously he had set himself up. He should have listened, a dark man said, these things could never end well. An ageless woman had come up to him on his first appearance and touched him, just above his heart, and whispered something. Now, she told them, he was pure and untainted. Heads shook; this would end in tragedy.

xx.

“Michael, wait up!” Gabriel hurried to catch up with the Second Archangel. “Do you know what Lucy’s done?”

“No, and don’t call him Lucy. You know he doesn’t like that.”

“I know, but it’s funny to see him get riled up.”

“Gabriel, he could destroy any one of us without breaking a sweat.”

“But he won’t, Michael, he’s one of us. He’s the angel.”

“Mmm.” Michael shrugged, and then turned to Gabriel. “What was it that you were saying about Lucifel doing something?”

“Well, the Lord was speaking with him, alone. That never bodes well.”

“How can you tell?”

“I just can; I mean, we’re only angels, why else would he want to talk to us?”

“Lucifel is different. Lucifel is the first.”

“So? That should make him even less than we are; he should just be the rough model.”

“Gabriel, calm yourself. Lucifel is the first angel, the most perfect of all angels. That is the way the Lord decreed it.”

“But it shouldn’t be that way.”

“It is not our place to judge the Lord.”

Gabriel did not argue, but as he and Michael went their separate ways, he whispered, “Perhaps it should be someone’s place.”

xx.

“My Lucifel, most beautiful of angels,” the young god murmured, tracing the sleeping archangel’s cheek with one finger. He smiled, and lowered his head to kiss that pale skin. “As god, I love all things, but as myself,” he kissed Lucifel again, this time on his lips, “it is you I love.” The dark-haired angel stirred but did not wake, and the young god placed his head beside Lucifel’s, eyes drifting shut again.

The old gods had merely raised eyebrows when they learned of his infatuation with his own creation. They were not in the position to talk, given their incestual natures and constant acts of infidelity. The mother of all things had only shaken her head at him, once, slow and measured, but he had paid her no heed. He, too, was god, after all; he was the last god, the true god of this world.

When the ball of warmth that was Lucifel began to stir, the young god forced himself to open his eyes and sit up. His angel regarded him with a bemused expression. “You’ve never stayed before.”

“There have always been things that have needed doing.” He stood up, stretching his back out with a grace that was suitably divine, and thought his clothes onto his body. Lucifel was dressing manually, in the clothes that the old gods had spoken of; two pieces, crisp and neat and not to be seen on that earth for many, many millennia. The young god placed one hand on the small of the angel’s back, and Lucifel shivered noticeably at the touch.

“And are there things that need doing now?” he asked, voice and expression wry as he turned to face the young god.

“I suspect there are,” he replied, leaning in to press their lips together. Lucifel pressed back, snaking his arms around the god’s neck. The Archangel sighed into his god’s mouth as hands traced intricate patterns on his back, and permitted a soft sound of protest to escape his lips when the lord pulled away, slowly and gently. “It is time for us to go, Lucifel.” But his arms did not move from where they were, locked around Lucifel’s waist. He pressed one last kiss to the angel’s lips and left, swift but unhurried.

Lucifel watched him, blue eyes darkening. “Lance...,” his voice trailed off. That was his greatest possession there, in his mouth, the name of this world’s true god, known only to him and the god himself. One hand was outstretched, and the air around him quivered with anticipation, but he dropped his arm and walked out; the others were probably waiting.

xx.

“Lance, I won’t be your puppet any longer!”

“Lucifel, please, don’t do this.”

“How can you say that? How can you be so calm?”

“Lucifel, I…” The young god reached out one hand, fingertips barely grazing the Archangel’s cheek. “You’ve never been a puppet to me.”

“Then why have you tossed me- tossed all the angels- aside for these humans?” Lucifel backed away from the lord’s touch; his eyes flashed with fire and darkened to a shade that was more black than blue.

“Oh, my dear angel, is that truly what you think?”

“Don’t patronize me,” Lucifel snapped. His eyes flickered to Gabriel, who stood in the shadows, watching the scene unfold before him.

“Don’t worry about Gabriel; he isn’t aware of what he’s seeing.” It should have been obvious, given the blank expression on the third angel’s face.

“Then why is he here?”

“To proclaim.”

“Proclaim what?”

“Whatever is necessary.”

“You,” the Morningstar spat, “you knew all along, didn’t you? Somehow, you saw all of this coming!”

“No, I never did. I swear, Lucifel, I never thought you were my puppet.”

“How can I believe you? You treat those humans as though they were angels!” He did not voice his true complaint, that god loved Adam as much as he loved Lucifel.

“As god, I must love all things.”

“Can there be no difference between those ignorant fools and those who have served you since the birth of this world?”

“You never struck me as the jealous kind, Lucifel.”

“I wouldn’t; puppets can’t feel anything, can they?”

“Are you so insistent on going through with this, my Lucifel?” The lord looked as wounded as was possible for a god to look; his eyes were downcast and the aura around him radiated sorrow.

“What do you take me for? A weak-willed human?”

“Very well.” Lance walked out of the room and Lucifel, to his great distress, found that he followed him automatically. Gabriel trailed behind the two, his blank eyes trained on the back of Lucifel’s neck. The Archangel tried, repeatedly, to break free from whatever bond the lord had placed on him, but not even he could break the will of the true god. Once, he stopped moving and Gabriel crashed into him. The angel of annunciation had narrowed his eyes and Lucifel swore that he saw malice in them, anger on the face of that most gentle of angels. It was true, Gabriel had a wicked tongue and a spark in his eye, but he had always been a friend to Lucifel.

When he felt the mental bonds Lance had placed on him release, the Morningstar noted that they were in the center of the Heavenly City, where the high, golden throne of the young god presided over his realm. Said god’s fingers wound through Lucifel’s hair before the angel could protest and, much to his surprise, pushed his head downwards. The archangel fell to his knees, his breath knocked out of him by the surprising force of Lance’s arm. He twisted his head ‘round, blue eyes straining to glare at the god who held his head tightly. His teeth bared and he could almost feel Lance avert his eyes in shame. “Say it, Lucifel.”

“Say what, my lord?”

“Tell them what you have told me.” With his free arm, the young god gestured to the crowd of angels that was gathering in the square; some stared unabashedly at the lord and his beloved Morningstar, others gazed questioningly at the angel of the annunciation, standing on the throne of god as though he belonged there. “Tell them, Lucifel.”

And so he did. The bright angel lifted his head up in a smooth arc, unhindered by the hand still tangled in his hair; it seemed almost like a familiar, comforting feeling. “’Tis better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven!”

The silence of the angelic crowd deafened. But then, much to the surprise of the lord, a whispering of assent grew. Several angels were nodding; some even unfurled their wings and looked to the Morningstar to lead them. He wrenched free of Lance’s grasp and turned to face him, an ugly smirk marring his features. “Do you see now, my dear Lance,” he whispered, “what it is you have done?”

God, however, did not reply, as Gabriel’s voice, deep and drunk on some sort of divine mandate, rang through the air. “So be it,” he said, and his voice rang out as though he were screaming, “that Lucifel, the first archangel, the Morningstar, is henceforth exiled from the realm of Heaven, as are all those who choose to follow him. From this point forward he shall be known as Lucifer, the Lord of Lies.”

The Morningstar whirled to face his god, eyes wide and accusatory. Lance lowered his head, not daring to answer the unspoken questions. ‘Oh, my Lucifel, I wish I did not have to do this. Please, forgive me one day.’ The way Lucifer, once Lucifel, turned from him abruptly, the way his wings, still pure and white, unfurled in the warm light, the way he and far too many rebel angels seemed to vanish into the great void, all spoke against the private will of god.

In the afterglow of the rebellion, Gabriel descended from the throne, his eyes regaining their former color and personality. It took only a few seconds for him to register what had just happened- what he had just done, and when he did, he could not stop the tears from coming. It was all Lance could do not to follow suit.

xx.

“Yes, my dear Eve, take the apple,” the snake hissed, curling tighter around the tree of knowledge.

“But God forbade us from taking it.” Her large, doe-like eyes blinked in confusion, and the snake flicked its tongue in annoyance.

“You will, find, dear Eve, that the lord forbids a great many things. Besides, I am sure he would want his beloved children to have the gift of knowledge.”

“Knowledge?”

“Why, yes, knowledge. Did he not give you and Adam dominion over all things?”

“Well, that he did, but…”

“Then you must have knowledge, little Eve. Only with knowledge can you establish your rule. This is the way god would have wanted it.” Had the snake been capable of it, a sour smile would have pulled at graceful lips, and as it was, those beady eyes seemed sorrowful.

“Are…are you sure?” Her pale, petite, perfect hand was mere millimeters from the apple, yet she still hesitated.

“I have never been surer, dear Eve; this is what your god desires.”

“Very well.” She took the rosy fruit in her hand, and brought it to her equally rosy lips. The quiet ‘crunch’ of her teeth breaking the skin brought a satisfied look to the snake’s eyes, and he slithered off. He knew that the silly girl would share her fruit with Adam. How would god react to know that his most beloved of creatures had been spoiled, Lucifer wondered.

“Is it done?” A woman’s low, sensual voice shook him out of his thoughts, even as her smooth hands scooped him from the ground and on to her shoulders.

“Yes, Lilith, it is. Now stop your worrying and take us back. I tire of this form.” Her laughter rang through the barren desert surrounding Eden.

“As you command, my Lord.”

xx.

Lilith’s touch was soft on his shoulder, but her eyes were hard. “Are you sure you wish to go through with this? I could bear the child just as easily as some mortal woman.”

“I know you could, my Lilith,” he murmured, taking her hand in his and rubbing circles on it with his thumb, “but it is more a symbol than anything else. I wouldn’t want the lord thinking that he was the only one who could pull off the immaculate conception trick.”

“Oh, Lucifer, does it matter?” She was obviously growing impatient with him, and her dark eyes snapped with a flame that almost reminded the devil of himself.

“Yes, it does matter, very much so. I will not play second best to him.” The cold finality of Lucifer’s words ended the conversation and Lilith stalked off. She returned to shove a sheet of paper into his arms.

“Evelyn Adamson,” she allowed her lips to quirk upwards, “age twenty-one. Blonde hair, blue eyes, the prefect figure, or so they say.”

“Religious?”

“Very.” Lilith’s small smirk grew into a full-blown, wicked smile, and her lord joined her.

“And shall I come to her tonight?”

“Oh, no. The full moon is in three days time. Wait until then.”

“You always were one for ceremony, my dear Lilith.”

“One of us has to be, my Lord.”

xx.

It brought Lucifer a twisted pleasure to see his ‘child’ grow. It was a grotesque, misshapen creature that could not be called ‘human’ by any definition of the word. Young Evelyn Adamson had died only a few months after her child’s birth. She was lucky that she did not live to see the day that he brought a plague among men, slaughtering all he encountered and branding them with his number. 666.

Now that horrible beast stood at the head of a vast army of demons, the queen Lilith herself at his side; Lucifer privately thought that she had never looked more beautiful. In his innermost heart, the core of his being that was naught but an angel, he knew that she could never compare to Lance. Still, in her existence- so much a horrid reflection of his own- she had brought him pleasure and even the rare glimpse of happiness. It would pain him to see her die. But all things pass, all things fade with time; only god and his heavenly host are eternal.

His barking laugh was not heard by his army, however; he was far above them, surveying the terrain and waiting for the son of god to appear in all his glory. If angels could not die, then how could his dear lord hope to explain those very creatures that had died at his feet in the first war? Lucifer himself had slain many, and it sent a thrilling shiver down his spine to remember with what ease he had killed them. It was at that time that his wings had become the black abominations they were now; it still deeply surprised him that they had not rotted or fallen off.

When the heavenly host did appear, he paid them no mind, save to cast a quick glance at the proverbial son. He had seen the man once before, during his mortal life, and could not stand to be in his presence. The son of god. Honestly, had Lance not already proven the greatness of his love for mortals? Did he need to sow his seed among them? Lucifer dispelled those thoughts from his head, searching for Michael, or Gabriel, or even Raphael. He could see the angel of healing hanging back, waiting for his time to come. Sweet Gabriel had not yet arrived; he would come with god, Lucifer realized. It was a day for annunciation, surely.

And, ah, there was Michael, at the head of the heavenly army, right beside the son. His magnificent golden hair was pulled back, and his fierce blue eyes shocked even Lucifer. ‘Oh, my Lilith, watch out for this one. He will surely be your doom.’ The general shifted anxiously beside the son; god had not yet appeared. Lucifer, too, was eager to see his former lord. He knew that the young god would, like the Lord of Lies himself, take a vantage point far above the actually conflict. It would give the two of them an opportunity to speak.

So he waited until a warm glow seeped through the clouds, and Gabriel flew out, closely followed by Lance. Lucifer’s breath caught in his chest- he looked as he had remembered him. Then announcing angel raised himself up to his full height, though it was not much, and proclaimed that here was the day of reckoning between Heaven and Hell, may the light of righteousness prevail. Lilith looked as though she could kill.

And kill she did; Lucifer was enraptured by her graceful step and the blood that flew around her but never from her. Still, he knew that she was approaching Michael and her consequent death. It did pain him, somewhere, that two of his friends must face each other upon the playing field, pawns in his devilish game. The angelic general was captivating, too, all white wings and steel, and Lucifer wondered if Gabriel was watching him. His eyes searched for said angel, and found Lance instead. He bit his lip and waited for the lord to say something, but he did not. He only smiled, sadly and Lucifer fought off the sense of guilt that overwhelmed. It was at that moment that he knew he would lose.

After that, with the will of the lord of hell gone, his troops quickly failed. His ‘son’, locked in combat with the true son, fell with a sickening thud, and then the demons began to panic. Some killed themselves, some attacked even more fiercely, and those that had fallen with him on the first day threw themselves upon the mercy of the lord. Only proud, beautiful Lilith continued unworried, her blade slicing through angels with a sick grace. Before Lucifer realized it, she was behind the son, a wicked smile on her features; he had always loved that smile best. That was the way he chose to remember her, turning his head as Michael brought an end to Lucifer’s dominion.

Those who had begged mercy of the lord received it and they trembled with those angels that still remained, awaiting the final judgment. Gabriel, moving as Lucifer remembered he had done as his exile, opened his mouth, and Lucifer heard all things stop to listen.

“So it comes to pass that it is the end of all things,” Gabriel’s voice was clear and pure, “and the Lord God has come to pass his judgment upon all who remain. Those who are faithful he welcomes with open arms, those who have sinned he punishes, those who have longed to return to his breast he forgives.” Lucifer met Lance’s eyes, and though Gabriel continued to speak, he could not listen.

‘those who have longed to return to his breast he forgives.’ Could he forgive the devil himself? Lucifer doubted it. But as Gabriel’s speech ended- it was magnificent, being the very thing he was made for- god parted his lips and said, softly but clearly, “I forgave you a long time ago, my Lucifel.”

It was only a few meters, if that, between them, the Morningstar judged. But his pride continued to refuse Lance’s forgiveness, demanding more. He itched to return; there was nothing more for him, after all. Yet the nagging doubt remained in his mind, a whisper that he forgave the humans just as readily, that Lucifel was no special case. He called himself Lucifel, for the first time since the fall. He knew then, that he had lost, that nothing remained for him to do, save return to the arms of his god.

“I missed you, dear angel.” The words were muffled by Lucifel’s dark tresses. One hand rested on the first angel’s waist, the other was tangled in his hair. Lucifel himself could do no more than stop himself from crying in order to preserve what remained of his dignity, but no one was around to see them; Gabriel had tactfully directed the heavenly host and the masses waiting to be judged elsewhere.

“Lance…”

“Shh, there is something I must tell you.” He pulled the Morningstar even closer, if it were possible. “I said to you, on that day, that as god I must love all things. But my, beloved Lucifel, my turn as god is over; we know not how it will be in the next world.”

“What does that…”

“Hush. I loved all things as god, but as myself, as Lance, it is you I love, Lucifel.” With that, the lord of all things tipped his angel’s head up and brought their mouths together. Lucifel’s arms curled around Lance’s neck. It had been millennia since they had touched; he had not realized how much he had missed it.

When the lord pulled away, Lucifel smiled at him. “I have been gone for a long time, haven’t I, Lance?”

“Yes, my dear Lucifel, but you now you have come home.”