Summary: Imagine that the battle between God and Lucifer just happened. This story is focused on the aftermath of this, and the effects that it causes on two special beings. We all know that the angels are perfect and we can assume that because demons used to be angels, that they have similar attributes. Such of these is that they don't sleep. Well image two of them did and the dreamt of each other, unknowingly, of course. Even though this story is set in different time periods, the characters are relatively modern in their thought process and I hope that you take the time to read past this and give it a shot, it however is not yet finished. Input is greatly desired... I know the transitions are bumpy, because I wrote it as one document. Just please take the time to review to tell me if i should completely give up on this or not...

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If it seemed at all like it was the greatest epic battle that would have ever been fought, it would have been. It was not simply a battle of the heavens, within the heavens. No, this was the battle between Lucifer, the Son of Darkness and all things unnatural, and Michael, God’s right hand, and namely his most powerful Archangel. This battle had been raging for a time that upon earth would have passed as years something to the amount of twelve hundred, but to those fighting, it appeared as three days. The perfect number, the number of the trinity and the mocking.

Lucifer and his forces were battling boldly; their courageousness for even attempting to overthrow God and his powers was astounding. Namely, it was not as well thought out as it should have been.

Thrusting and parrying were two among many in the battle, both with swords, and their own mystical devices, namely the Hand of God and more importantly, the Hand of Light. Normally this weapon was not even a weapon, instead it was a banishment tool used by the fifty-eighth spirit. Originally it has been said that the Hand was used to banish the darkness to the other side, thus creating light and darkness and their cycles within. The Hand then left some of itself in the darkness, which harnessed the light and shone against the shadows. Therefore the sun and moon were created.

That is not all that the Hand of Light was used for, no, it was also a great weapon. When it banished the darkness, it learned how to restore light with a cool breeze-like feeling, or like that of the sun shining down on a brisk day.

The two battling however were graceful, thrusting and lunging, parrying and avoiding in an erotic dance of phallus like weapons. They grappled and shoved amongst the other warriors standing out in a non-obvious manner, fighting each other in their own mannerism, flailing more like a couple of orgasmic teenagers high on lust more than anything else.

Somewhere between their amorous battle-moans, and the chaos around them, they were separated. They battled elsewhere and the Hands were left to fight those around them, and never again focus on each other.

A sad story to note is that during the battle many things were lost not lives because those who were no alive to being with cannot die, but more important items, like limbs for instance. Yes, feet, legs, arms and Hands were all lost during the battle. The Hand of Light was severed from its owner, and her cries did not go unheard by the other warriors, but they could do nothing anyway because of their own threat of losing limbs. God’s messenger was the one to amputate the owner of her Hand, and she was damn proud of herself for doing so because she had eliminated one of the strongest mystical weapons against them.

Soon after, at the end of the third day, the Hand of God cast those who they had dutifully fought against into the deepest realms below them. And they fell. The angels that had once followed God so obediently, dropped to the earth below them, but ‘lo, they did not fall simply to the earth to live as mortals and experience mortal pain and die as mortals to be demoted to Sheol, to dwell with the rest of the loyal and unfaithful dead, they were sent further.

Gabriel, the Messenger appeared to Michael and told him to open the earth. Michael, who was hesitant at first for he did not know if this was truly God’s wish, but when God commanded it upon him he used his powers to do what was demanded of him.

When they fell from the sky, fire shot around them, burning the delicately fierce wings that allowed them flight. No, they were stripped of them as they fell, screaming, screeching and hurtling towards the earth. The heard the shake and the movement below them, but they still could not see anything. Certainly the burning tombs that encased them was enough to justify this, yet they continued to fall, into the mouth of a giant rising from the dirt, swallowing them whole, some dribbling down his neck and chin, crashing harshly into the ground, among the first of them to walk the earth.

The rest were thrown deeper into the earth, cascading downwards in an awkward ballet, until the flames that circled them, melded with that of those around, slowly them significantly to land in soft thuds and heaps on the floors of red caverns. Lucifer, the leader of them all was slowed the most, turned and watched his own demise as he plummeted to a lake of fire, where holy chains appeared from all directions and swathed him as he cried out mutely in pain.

The rest of God’s rejects fell all around him as he cried out curses upon He Who Condemned them. Then the gracious Lord rained down upon them the evil that they had so unknowingly released into the world. The spawn of tiny creatures attacked their charred angelic flesh. Gnawing on them, spitting poison in their eyes, the youngling demons’ shrieks causing their ears to bleed. The seedling scratched, the fallen bled. They beat and they bruised. They pulled and pushed and twisted and they became deformed, and they could not be stopped. Their powers of light were drained, weakened, removed. Lucifer cried out in anger and the spawn stopped, shuddering before returning to their pillaging.

“That is it!” Belial shouted to the mass of weakened fallen. “Show them no fear and anger shall be your accursed tool!”

The former bearer of the Hand, full of her rage, battered and broken lie upon the burning cavern floor. She gathered her strength, tired from the battle, the fall and the abuse, and pulled herself up, limbs hanging askew and a bloody stump where her Hand used to be. Looking about as the creatures noticed her anger and they had finally began to scurry away, hiding in the vicinity of her form, awaiting her fear to return, but when she looked and saw bits of her burnt, blackened skin decorating the stalagmites around her, her eyes burned with new fury. Amy, the 58th power spirit of hell, peered through her slit eyes and saw her broken and decrepit figure, both war torn and tortured. She then stretched out, the pain no longer present, cracking and snapping her bones, joints and muscles back into their right places. Her roar of vehemence joined and mingled with the cry of those fallen around her in their own passion and hatred. These became their power and it cause the underlings to drop into immediate fear and respect for the fallen, who had now become their “Masters” and “Mistresses” of their new Hell home.

Before her all of the creatures trembled and scattered, finally afraid of what little power that she had she might exert over them. When all of the little evils were terrified and in hiding for fear of the newly risen demons in their world, they all gathered around the lake of fire to see their dark lord.

"Welcome," Lucifer said in a hoarse voice, he was torn and bleeding too like the rest of them, yet his torture would still be eternal for the burning river that coursed beneath his body still. "If this is to be our new home we must get used to it soon, because I have a feeling that we, or at least I am going to be here for a very long time," he chuckled unhappily. "DAMN THEM ALL! CURSE THOSE MOTHER FUCKING BASTARD CHILDREN OF AN UNREAL GOD!" he screamed, only causing the fire to surge and burnt him deeper and hotter.

Amy flinched as he did so, feeling his pain, as much of the other company did. They felt for their fallen king who could only move but a little on his God created prison for the greatest defiance ever created. It was an honor really, because they were apart of something so great that it could permanently change the future, or anything else that they came into contact with, forever.

The excitement was almost too much for some of them to handle as the milled around the lake, gossiping and plotting what they would do, what havoc they would cause and so on and so forth. The noise of the talking demons soon gained in intensity as they had to shout to be heard over another and the ruckus that they were creating was raking havoc on Lucifer so he hollered out over them, manipulating the flames of the river beneath him and making them shoot skyward, ceasing everyone’s attention back to him.

“If any of you pathetic weaklings expects to get out of here you had better listen to me,” he commanded. “First we need to think of a plan to overthrow him, next we need to execute, but before we do that, we also have to find a way to get me out of these god damned chains.” The others nodded in agreement and he nodded his head at them as well, dismissing them.

The demons headed back to their lairs, which had simply been the place where they had landed, it had some value to them, most of their blood was there, as well as deformed ghosts of their old selves. Amy approached her cavern and contemplated to herself what had happened over the past few hours. The last thing that she could fully remember was battling in heaven against the Archangels. She sat down on the ground, laying out on the floor that was littered with her dirty remains. Her head tilted back as she start up at the jagged ceiling and thought of how that pompous god sat up there in heaven demanding them to love their neighbor and everyone around them, no matter how evil they had been treated. Had he even the slightest idea of how those Archangels of his strutted around like they were the ones who owned heaven? Raphael, Uriel, Sariel, Raguel, they were all pawns of the great and loved Gabriel, the most deceptive of them all and the most manipulative. They deserved to be burning down here. The only one that was not apart of them was Michael, and he was too oblivious to do anything about their ways and he was too inflated about being god’s warrior. It was disgustingly stupid. She closed her eyes and meditated more on the subject, much like she used to in heaven, but this time without the pesky reminder from god to stop with her thoughts because the Archangels were chosen by him and they were higher than she, therefore she could not think of them in such terms. It was all a load of bullshit to her.