The Longest Line, Chapter II
By: Lucifiel
Disclaimer: Still don't own them. I wasn't lying the first time. And thank you for all the nice reviews…I suppose I had better write this chapter before I am slaughtered and someone else writes it…rabid AS fans…-_-;;
A note: 'Mortus' means Death in Latin.
After the two had finished, Mika laid in Lucifer's arms under the black sheets, his head resting against his brother's broader chest, his own chest rising and falling with effort, and sweat glistening on his forehead.
Lucifer leaned down and planted a kiss on Michael's cheek, hugging the boy closer against him and feeling his heartbeat. Lucifer, on the other hand…had no heartbeat. A tiny pang of jealousy pricked him before he squashed it. He'd made his own choice when he'd fallen, and feelings such as jealousy were not permitted. At least not in his case.
He looked down at his little brother, who seemed to be in a half-sleeping state, his blue eyes slitted and the boyish face distant. Lucifer smirked. Had he really been that good? Of course he had. He was Lucifer, after all.
The Prince of Darkness watched as Michael stirred, then cupped a hand to his cheek, bringing his little brother's lips into a sweet kiss and stirring him out of his sleepy state. "Did you have a good rest?" He asked after the kiss was broken. Michael rose, a little dazed still, but looked happy and content.
"Hai," His little brother answered, laying back and smiling up at him. Lucifer almost devoured him then and there. Michael, when he was staring up at him in such an innocent manner, completely and utterly trusting…it almost made him happy. Almost.
Lucifer sat up, smirking, "I suppose I should send you back, ne?" Michael's saddened glance almost made Lucifer wince. Almost. But of course, such feelings and actions were also not permitted. "Ah, don't look at me that way. You know you can't stay here…"
"Hai."
The longing in that statement made Lucifer want to take Michael again, just to reassure the boy that Lucifer was not just screwing around like always, that he actually cared. As much as he could care anyway, and would love nothing more than to keep Michael forever. But Michael was an Archangel…he was important in the scheme of things in Heaven, and Lucifer had no desire to fight another war over his little brother, however much he loved him.
Michael rose, pulling on his boxers, pants, t-shirt, and finally shrugged on his trench coat and pulled on his gloves, replacing the red glasses as well. When he had finished, Michael shot an expecting glance at Lucifer.
The Dark Prince rose out of bed, his outfit solidifying onto his body as he did so, and Lucifer gathered Michael up in a tight embrace, then opened a portal and shoved the young Archangel into it before he could say more; Lucifer hated goodbyes…it was easier for both of them that way.
****
Michael awoke to a mangy, flea-ridden dog lapping at his face. He shoved the dog away and sat up, feeling cold rain slide down his back, and pulled his coat closer, standing up and depositing his glasses in an inside pocket. It had to be daytime, the clouds were covering the sun, but he had been with Lucifer for at least a full night, that he was certain of.
He couldn't place his feelings at the moment…the young angel had never been touched in the manner Lucifer had been touching him, and did not know what to think. So he didn't. Michael turned and found himself looking at the musty hotel, wondering if Raphael had come back yet.
His question was answered when he heard a rain-slicked sleeve rustle, and on reflex, Michael ducked the fist aimed at his head. His instincts rang true; and Michael turned to see Raphael glaring at him, his fists clenched. "What?"
"What do you mean WHAT? Where have you been?!" Raphael said, the icy blue glare turning into a full-on glower, "I have been worried sick!!"
"You sound like a women," Michael muttered, pushing past Raphael and walking up the street, not really intending to go anywhere, just walking for the sake of walking.
Raphael followed, as Michael had figured he would, and grabbed his arm, "OH no you don't, we have another mission."
"Another one?" Michael mused, stopping his movement and pondering, "Well? What is it?"
"Section D-5 of the Plains of Hell…we're assigned to put down a minor demonic rebellion."
"And..?"
"And…Rosiel's assigned to be our commander…"
Michael's voice stuck to the back of his throat, refusing to come forth at that statement. If Lucifer hadn't come when he did… He shook his head, clearing up the muddy thoughts that were screaming at him not to take the mission, "Our…commander?" The young Archangel managed to ask, "I though Uriel was our General."
"Oh he'll be there too…" Raphael trailed off, thinking, "Come to think of it, so will Gabriel," He ticked off the names on his fingers, "Uriel, Gabriel, Rosiel, you, and me. Oh and Mortus is scheduled to be present as well."
"Death? What for?"
"I'm as curious as you are," Raphael shrugged, "Guess we should get going."
"Wait," Michael shook his head, "This doesn't make sense. All four Archangels, Rosiel, and Death? Just to put down a minor demonic rebellion on the D-5 Plains of Hell?"
Raphael rolled his eyes, "Mika-chan, I don't think we should question orders. Again. Let's just go, all right?"
Michael spun and glowered at the Archangel of Wind, "Don't tell me what to do! I'm not a coward, Raphael!!!!!"
His friend backed up at the sudden outburst, waving his hands, "I didn't say that! Oh and we are supposed to check back into Heaven before we go. It will give you a chance to get your sword, ne?"
"Hai…" Michael nodded, still suspicious. He'd have to check out the mission on his own computer…Raphael tended to screw things up occasionally…especially on nights when he 'went out'.
The two took a cab outside the city and hiked back through the corn field, stepping in the same mud hole as before, and after much cursing and pummeling, the two managed to finally spread their wings and fly back up through Earth's atmosphere to Heaven.
The Gatekeeper waved the two through without so much as a glance, and Michael and Raphael split up; Raphael going to the throne room to report, and Michael returning to his room to collect his sword and check out the mission objectives.
Of course, it was nothing like Raphael had relayed it. Michael's blue eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. The mission was to eradicate Lucifer. HE was leading the offending army of higher demons…not a small demonic rebellion. The mission, however, stated that the attack had been one-sided, and that the Angels had struck first, that Lucifer was only retaliating. "It was us?!" Michael breathed. Hell had been dormant, there had been no reason to attack them…none.
Michael clicked a few more keys on the keyboard and stood, turning his computer off and changing into battle attire. Lucifer or no Lucifer, a mission was a mission. The dragon tattoo on his face seemed to glow in anger at that particular train of thought, but Michael ignored it. He pulled on a pair of baggy black pants and tugged on a white wife beater. It would be a hard battle; he didn't need any acess clothing getting in his way. After that was done, Michael made sure his cross earring was secure, strapped his sword to his back, and exited the room, running straight into Uriel.
Uriel looked stern, then leaned down to pat Michael on the head, "I haven't seen you in a while," He smiled, "How are you?"
Despite Michael's dislike of being treated like a child, he managed to smirk back, "All right, Uriel, and you?"
"Fine, fine. Are you ready? Raphael is already with Mortus, Gabriel, and Rosiel. All we need is you."
"Uriel, will an army of angels be accompanying us?" Michael asked, trotting a little to keep up with the tall General.
"Hai, Michael, Father wouldn't slaughter us. Are you frightened?"
"No," Michael said, shooting a glare up at Uriel and walking a little faster. The two ducked their heads to avoid the flying angels in the lobby and exited the building, walking along the golden streets until they reached the gates, where an angelic army was assembled. Rosiel, Raphael, Gabriel, and Mortus stood in front of the army, looking beautiful in shining clothing, their wings spread. All except Mortus, who was shrouded in black, her back sporting no wings, and a scythe held in her right hand. Michael smirked and bowed to her. "Good morning, Death-sama. You'll be fighting with us for this one?"
"I have not yet decided who's side I am on," Mortus replied in the matter-of-fact tone she always sported, "You are looking well, Michael."
"Thanks," He said, smiling up at Mortus. She was a beautiful woman, being Death and all. Her long black hair hung down past her knees, and her eyes were a deep ebony, one felt as if they were drowning if they looked into them too long. A tall woman, Death towered over Michael at 6'3.
Raphael smiled at Mortus, who did not return the gesture, and Michael knew why. When they had been younger Raphael had…well, Michael preferred not to dwell on some of the things Raphael had done when he was younger. Michael glanced over at Rosiel, who smirked at him, and the young angel looked away. Rosiel was just too insane for his taste.
Gabriel came forward and fixed Michael with a warm smile, stroking his red hair as if he were a cat of some sort, "Michael. I have not seen you for a very long time," She lifted his chin so she could look at him, "You haven't changed a bit."
Michael grinned, showing his pointy fangs, "I don't plan on changing any time soon."
Gabriel was beautiful as well, but in a kinder, gentler, way. Not nearly as regal or terrifying as Mortus, but she still stood taller than Michael, and her sky blue hair fell in soft curls around her shoulders, pulled back from her face by a silver headband. She wore a shining blue robe that was buckled at her waist with a sword belt, and an ornate scabbard with a silver sword in it hung at her side. "Of course not, dear boy," She giggled, winking at him before retreating to talk to Uriel.
After a few more minutes of socializing, Rosiel spread his magnificent trio of wings and flitted into the air, holding the same sword he had held to Michael's throat the night before. "Comrades in arms, we go now to eradicate a threat that has been terrorizing innocent humans and angels for centuries. Let us depart!" Rosiel cried, leading the host of angels to the plains.
On the trip, Michael had to work extra hard to keep up with the other, older angels, since they had larger, more adept wings. After about half an hour of fast, hard flying, they landed on the Plains. At first, it seemed like there was not a thing in sight for miles, but the Plains shifted and cracked, and demons started coming out of the ground like ants. Deadly, carnivorous, ants. Michael spread his wings and leapt into the air, slashing a demon in half and turning to set five more on fire with a glance.
The battle was horrible; Angel and Demons dying left and right, everything in complete and utter chaos. Michael was busy with ten demons who were trying to pull him back down into the squirming mass of Demons and Angels, and fried every one of the demons that came in contact with him.
His adrenaline was soaring, and when a higher class Demon fired a blast of ice magic at him, Michael batted it away and sliced the offending Demon in half, grinning like a manic and blasting the remains of it into rubble. After he had dispersed about fifteen more of the higher class demons, Raphael spread his wings and flew next to him, "Mika-chan, how are you holding up?"
"Fine," Michael grunted, his wife beater half torn off and several large chunks of his baggy pants ripped away. Raphael raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, fighting back-to-back with Michael.
After another four hours of fighting, it became clear that the Demons didn't stand a chance. "Where is Lucifer?" Raphael murmured, "Didn't the mission say he would be leading them?"
Michael and Raphael's eyes widened at the same time, "That wasn't their main forces!!!" Raphael gasped, "We've got to tell Rosiel and Uriel to get the troops out of here!"
"You do that," Michael nodded, "I'll hold them back in the air." Raphael put a hand on Michael's shoulder, then dove down, looking for their commanders. Michael flapped his wings, leading about seventeen higher class demons away from Raphael, and blasting them with fire, making all but one incinerate.
The demon rammed into Michael before the Angel had a chance to maneuver, and knocked the wind out of him, slashing at his chest and opening a large wound, spurting blood everywhere. Michael squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip; he wouldn't cry. That was something he could not afford to do at the present time. It would show his enemy his weakness, and that was forbidden at all times.
He righted himself, holding his chest with one hand and raising his sword with the other. "Come on you scum," Michael said, grinning and baring his fangs. The demon roared and the two rushed toward each other. At the last moment, Michael spun underneath the demon and rushed upwards, slicing him in half from the bottom up.
Five more demons of the same caliber rushed towards him, and Michael screamed, emitting enough energy to fry them all. Raphael appeared in front of him after that, "Mika-chan, come on! Uriel says we're to pull out! Let's go!" He tugged at Michael's sleeve, and distracted him for a moment.
A moment was all it took.
Six demons rushed the two Archangels, and Raphael, with his superior wings, managed to get out of the way in time. Michael, on the other hand, was not so lucky. The six demons slammed into him, opening new wounds and old, and Michael fell towards the ground, which was a writhing mass of demons, unconscious.
***
Raphael gasped when he saw what had happened to his young friend, and flapped his wings, intending to catch Michael before he hit the ground, but fifteen demons rushed him, and Raphael found himself unable to get to Michael.
The boy fell, his body and wings limp, and Raphael screamed his name, but Michael made no reply. And it was all because of him…it was his fault Michael had become distracted. "Mika!!!!!"
Several demons swept toward the boy, intent on cutting him to pieces, but parted when an elegant figure dressed in black, with beautiful black wings swept down and caught the young Archangel of Fire, scooping Michael up in his arms like a precious jewel. "Lucifer…" Raphael gasped.
To be Continued…