Author's note:Sensitive, blasphemous reading at hand—read at will. Review if pleased. Disregard if irked.

Sometimes he doesn't know why he is or why there are shadows creeping around him, silent. He hides when he can, curling into a ball and wrapping his arms around himself, praying. The windows are large, framed with heavy drapes that are never pulled shut, but they never let in sunlight. Only cool moonlight seeps through panes of darkness.

He remembers, occasionally, in brief flashes, moments of warmth. But the memories steal away just as quickly and he is left with only the chill of the stagnant air.

There is also sometimes a recollection of light, so blinding, so white, that he cannot bear to look at it. It hurts his eyes still when he remembers.

But what he knows best of all is that he once had a pair of wings, finely feathered and soft, silken upon touch. He remembers their weight and their shape and their sure, gentle strokes against the air. He no longer remembers what happened to them.

Here, in this lonely mansion atop a deserted cliff, an ocean pounding against the rocks, he breathes in cold and dark and fear.

--

"Azael," he whispers softly, bringing up a hand to stroke the face that haunts his dreams.

Pale limned skin is soft to his touch. Endless secrets stare up at him through golden eyes.

He wishes he knew how to say the things that need to be said. All he can do, though, is pull the cold, lifeless body into his arms, trying to keep it warm.

Silver hair stirs when Azael shifts his head and lays it against Lucifer's shoulder. "I missed you," he says.

Lucifer does not need to say anything because it is a given between the two of them how much he has missed Azael. Spoken words will only be superfluous. Instead, Lucifer pulls the other closer, closing his eyes and nestling into the silver hair he has yearned to see for too long. The darkness streams through the windows; always dark, no matter whatever else comes and changes.

It has been several decades since Azael has been exiled to this place, nearing a century. Lucifer has not seen him since the day Vephriel was killed.

He has searched endlessly.

--

Immortality is not the same as life.

Azael is, in fact, lifeless. He possesses a soul, and he is animate, but he is immortal; not living but existing forevermore.

He spent the first thousand years of his existence with wings.

Now they are gone.

--

Lucifer carries Azael out of the lonely mansion on the deserted cliff. He steps carefully into a space three hundred meters from the house and vanishes. He does not fly because he knows Azael will cry if he does.

--

It has been claimed that Azael did not mean to kill Vephriel. An accident, some immortals insist, that resulted in an unfair stripping of Azael's wings and status and forcing him to exile. There was no proof of malicious intent.

In that last statement they are correct. Azael possessed no malice, no hate, not even the smallest measure of dislike, when he killed Vephriel. For he did kill him, and most decisively.

It was bright, so bright it hurt his eyes, and he had taken his sword, gleaming even brighter in the light, and pointed its tip to the delicate skin of the other's neck.

Vephriel had said only, "Suffer like life after rain, amibel."

Then there had been a flash of sword and the soft sound of whispering hair as Vephriel's head tumbled down his pristine white robes.

It was after many years in that mansion before Azael understood the significance of those words. Vephriel had not intended any harm, rather, hope in the blossoming of life after rain.

Azael does not regret killing him. Only that he is not here now.

--

They arrive like a cold blast of winter into hellfire. Lucifer sets Azael gently on a bed of silken black sheets. He looks down at the pale, slender limbs in elegant disarray against a backdrop of darkness. He wants to comb that pale hair off that paler face and find an answer in those fathomless eyes.

Azael rolls over, revealing his back, silent as he offers himself to Lucifer's perusal.

The place from where his wings used to spread is now an expanse of smooth milky skin. There are no scars, no hints at all, that it was ever anything else.

Lucifer shuts his eyes as his heart slowly rolls over in pain.

Azael looks human now; a frightened mortal being vulnerable to death.

Yet, he is still Azael.

Lucifer drags the sheets up over Azael's body and tells him, "You are not beautiful." He is too fragile for that.

Lucifer does not say he loves him still, that he will never abandon him, will never be parted from him again. He does not say that he wishes to take a flame to all that has hurt him in the past, burning them to ashes that crumble with a breath. He does not say he will protect him and care for him and take him back to a world where the stars explode and vision is white.

He does not need to.

Instead, he says, "Stay here. I will fetch you some food."

--

There are others in the hall outside Lucifer's room, and they are wide-eyed and whispering. Lucifer spares them no glance and they do not pause in their speculation as he strides by. There is no need to hide the truth for they know as well as God himself how much Lucifer's soul belongs to Azael. They whisper of things they already know, but reiterate in hopes of finding more. They search endlessly for further truths.

--

Azael remembers the first day-night-endless-dark that he spent in the lonely mansion atop the deserted cliff. He remembers crying, not for killing Vephriel, not for losing his wings, and not even for being exiled for eternity. He cried because he did not remember the touch of Lucifer's skin or the warmth of his breath or the light in his eyes.

He whiled away endless hours drawing patterns on his skin, trying to remember Lucifer's laugh and smile and mouth. The blood stained the floors but it didn't matter because he was alone. He didn't care. And he could never die.

--

"I don't want it." Azael refuses the honey drenched dessert that Lucifer offers.

"You need to eat something."

Golden eyes close and Azael draws near to Lucifer, who sits on the edge of the bed. He wraps his arms around the angel and strokes his white-feathered wings.

Lucifer stills.

Carefully, he lays the platter of sweetmeats on the bedside table and then returns the embrace.

For a long while, they are silent, ruminating on what it meant to be together again. There will be prices to pay, Azael knows, and regrets that Lucifer has to pay them. But they will be paid later—now Azael draws back and lifts his head to Lucifer's.

There is a meeting of mouths; warm and familiar and stirring.

The lights, similarly warm and familiar, glow in the corners of the room, chasing away the darkness. The sheets may be black, but they are not of the same darkness that wound through the mansion on the cliff.

Azael finds himself in Lucifer's arms. He tears away for a moment, breathing hard with diamond shards in his eyes. He is finally warm. He remembers.

"Will you drink some brandy, at least?" questions Lucifer, settling more comfortably on the bed and keeping Azael in his lap.

Azael agrees.

--

God created legions of angels as warriors and messengers of Him. There were the seraphim, glorious with their three pairs of wings, and the cherubim, the thrones, the dominions, the virtues, the powers, the principalities, the archangels, and the angels.

For every angel He created a soul mate.

Gabriel was Michael's. Kalir was Fayn's. Vephriel was Derrick's.

And Azael was Lucifer's.

--

Lucifer had screamed in agony when Azael's wings had been stripped. He had fallen silent, weeping, when Azael was cast from Heaven. He swore, solemnly, determinedly, obsessively, that he would find Azael again. No one doubted his word as the most powerful archangel in heaven. Still, many questioned the wisdom of it.

--

They rest in each other's arms later that night, sated, content, and warm. Azael sleeps soundly ensconced in Lucifer's arms. It has been a long time since he can sleep in peace.

Lucifer lies awake, thinking about tomorrow. He knows there will be a confrontation of some kind. God is rarely pleased when his creations disobey his direct edicts.

He feels a pang of regret for his actions; he does worship his Lord, and honors and respects and loves Him. But when Lucifer looks at the beautiful face of the angel that sleeps in his arms, he knows he had no other choice.

Lucifer presses a kiss upon Azael's brow and tightens his hold fractionally.

God may have crafted Lucifer's soul, but it is Azael who possesses it.

--

Vephriel had been Fayn's lover. Azael killed him because Kalir, Azael's brother, was Fayn's soul mate.

--

"I love you," Lucifer says the next morning, smiling lazily down at Azael who blinks sleepily at him.

Understood behind those words is so much more: I'll love you even if you have no wings, even if all of Creation will shun me; you are my world, my light, my heart and soul and existence; I touch you and I die a thousand times; you shine; you make me cry; I searched endlessly for you, I promise we will never be apart again; kiss me shaibel.

Azael reaches up and greets him with a lingering kiss. "I love you, too," he murmurs.

Thank you; I need you; I will always be a part of you, and you a part of me; I would suffer anything and everything for you; you are unspeakably precious to me; when you touch me I can fly without my wings; it's okay, don't cry, I love you; always with you forevermore; shaibel, darling, lover; you make my sky bleed.

Then there is the unmistakable sound of the herald's call.

"Ready to face Him?" asks Lucifer, cupping Azael's cheek.

The other inhales deeply, noting the freshness and faint tinge of citrus of the air, so unlike the stale air of the mansion. Clinging to the air is also a subtle reminder of last night's activities.

Azael smiles. "No." He kisses Lucifer again. "But let us go."

--

Vephriel had already taken his due for consorting with another's soul mate.

Fayn, for consorting with another's soul mate and abandoning his own, was stripped his wings and sent to live among the mortals, to walk among them but remain forever apart from them, to love them and grieve when they died.

Derrick and Kalir, the innocent victims, were then Soul Bonded to each other.

In punishment for the death of Vephriel, Azael was stripped his wings and exiled to the lonely mansion atop the deserted cliff upon whose base the ocean pounded relentlessly.

--

It took almost a hundred years for Lucifer to find Azael again. But he was relentless, ruthless, and was rewarded in the end by the feeling of that familiar, beloved form cradled in his arms.

--

Again, the sky is white and bright and blinding. Azael shuts his eyes against it, against not only the stinging pain but against the memories. He presses himself closer to Lucifer, who stands tall and firm and sure, long hair making rivers of darkness against his robes.

His heart pounds with fear, anxiety, anticipation...hope.

That latter is dashed to ribbons when the Lord speaks.

"You have disobeyed me, Child of the Light."

--

Michael stands beside Gabriel as they watch Lucifer grow tenser and angrier with every Word Uttered by the Lord.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Michael murmurs uneasily.

Gabriel casts him a sympathetic look, silently agreeing with the premonition, but both know there is nothing that can be done.

--

Azael loves Lucifer not only because they are Bonded, but because he has given the other angel his heart as well as his soul.

Lucifer's hair is pitch black, an endless silken stream of darkness.

But Azael is reminded of the darkness in the mansion, because with every moment, light catches and reflects off that inky hair in a million shards of crystal.

His eyes are blood-crimson, but warmed with too much affection for Azael to be frightened.

His skin is as pale as the moon, as pale as Azael's own silvery hair, and makes a striking contrast against his darkness. Azael likes to see that skin flushed red with heat and wanting and love.

Azael has given Lucifer his soul, his heart, and his body. There is no question in his mind that he can be with no other.

--

"You abandoned your duties for nearly a century."

Lucifer barely twitches at this accusation.

"You sought out an exiled angel."

There is a tightening at the corners of his mouth.

"You brought him back to Heaven, from where he was outcast four score and seventeen years ago."

Lucifer cannot help but tighten his hands into fists.

"He serves no purpose here. He is not welcome here. He was exiled and exiled he shall remain. I sought and found another soul mate for you, Lucifer, but you disappeared before you could Bond. You went against my direct wishes, my child, and took advantage of my trust and love for you."

"Azael is my soul mate!" shouts Lucifer at last, unable to suppress himself any longer. He makes sure to stress the name God seems so reluctant to speak. "Why can he not be here? Why have you exiled him? Are you not our Loving Father? What are my duties in the face of the soul mate you yourself created for me?"

Azael barely stifles his gasp, staring at Lucifer with a mix of dismay and awe.

"Light-bearer…"

"Oh Lord, Father, how can you expect me to Bond with anyone but Azael? He owns my soul!"

"I love unconditionally, my child, but for the breaking of one of the Ten Commandments, for the commitment of a sin that great, there must be punishment. It is out of love that I cast Azael out and sought you a new soul mate."

"That's not love!"

"Oh, but my child—"

"I don't want to hear it! If that's your kind of love, where you will not forgive your own creation, your own child, the soul mate of Lucifer, the Light Bearer, your first and foremost and most beloved archangel, I want none of it!" There is rage written clearly across Lucifer's face. "I reject it. I deny you, Father; I will curse your name until I die!"

There is a sharp drawing of breath from all those watching.

It is a serious promise, that, since as an immortal, Lucifer will never die.

Azael stares in helplessness as Lucifer whirls away from God and returns to his side.

"Let's go, shaibel," he says angrily, grasping Azael by the arm and tugging him away. They do not get very far before Azael lays a gentle hand on his arm and he pauses. "What?"

The doubt and the fear in Azael's eyes has been replaced with a singular emotion: love. A love that encompasses unquestioning trust and unwavering faithfulness. "Where you walk, I will follow," he whispers, golden eyes brimming with secrets he will willingly share.

Lucifer's expression softens. "No, shaibel, walk beside me."

--

Lucifer is not cast from Heaven. He walks away from it. He leaves of his own free will, granted to him by the Lord Creator he has turned from.

He and Azael now live among the mortals, in Hell, by definition a place Without God.

Fayn comes to see them often, sharing stories of life in the land of the living, and smiling wistfully when Lucifer and Azael listen politely but are in fact too involved with each other to ever care about the doings of lesser beings. He often leaves with a sad light in his eyes, but as he usually arrives with no light at all, he finds it is not something he regrets.

Other angels have left Heaven, prompted by Lucifer's departure, and occasionally Lucifer and Azael will find one sitting at their kitchen table; or oftentimes, the angels are the ones who find Lucifer and Azael at their kitchen table—not sitting, but rather making use of the top. There is sometimes awkward blushes and stammered words, but it is of little consequence because after a few minutes in Lucifer and Azael's presence, the angels become well aware that this is no ordinary Soul Bonding that ties the two together.

They are happy now. Sometimes they regret choosing to leave the Lord and sometimes Lucifer has nightmares and Azael kisses them away. Sometimes they wonder what will become of them now and Azael has nightmares and Lucifer kisses them away. But then they think of each other and the fact that choosing an alternative would have resulted in being separated, and they have no more doubts.

Lucifer doesn't care that he is now the leader of his own legion of fallen angels, whose once pristine wings had been stained inky black by the lack of Light.

All that matters is that after endless searching, he finally has Azael.

fini

-Forgive the blasphemy. Lucifer fascinates me. As does Greek mythology. O.o;; I may write something concerning that next time.

-The entire thing is completely out of my imagination; I made up names and plot devices and everything. About the only thing that was vaguely researched was the hierarchy of angels (seraphim, cherubim, thrones, dominions, virtues, powers, principalities, archangels, and angels.)

-Yes, angels are probably genderless. But I'm an obsessive yaoi fangirl. Deal. (On a side note, TokyoPop's translation of Wish by CLAMP made me so mad; they assigned all the angels female genders while the original Japanese left genders open to the imagination. Damn English for not having gender-neutral pronouns! .)

-Amibel, loosely translated, means "friend." Connotation of "one to whom I owe much." Shaibel, loosely translated, means "lover." Connotation of a much deeper, spiritual and emotional connection. Like "talímenios." .

-Don't mind the switching of tenses to much; it was hard going from present events in present tense to things that had occurred in the past and needed to be written in past tense. If the flow really bothers me on a later reread, I may change the present-tense sections to past-tense.

-Feedback will be adored.