Lamb to Slaughter

by TheBeingOfEverything

Angel was only ever a sacrificial lamb, and some timelines lead him there sooner than others. Samael indulges. *Warning: Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Title: Lamb to Slaughter

Summary: Angel was only ever a sacrificial lamb, and some timelines lead him there sooner than others.

Samael indulges.

Notes: Thank u to Seaweary for being a terrible enabler and also this is for u for being the only other person feeding me in these trying times of no demon king centered fic lmao

I'm sorry for what I did to Angel, but to be fair, he makes good demon bait :D

Song of the fic: I'm Only Joking by KONGOS

---

Samael wasiswillbe an endless being. A creature that hadhas always existed and always wouldwill.

No matter the point in space he stood in, he had only ever had one goal. It existed from the moment he grew from a blind god to something with direction, and he wasn't altogether sure that he didn't form with the goal as soon as he realized himself, individuated from the universe.

To be without peer, to play forever without anything to stop him or his games.

That simple desire had controlled every decision of his since the inception of his ego. Even those times where he indulged.

He indulged often, many timelines were set aside exclusively to cater to his most destructive urges so that he could advance his goal unimpeded by the instincts that drove lesser kin.

As a king, as second, as SamaelLokiRavenTricksterSpaceandTime he couldn't ever be as low as the worms who only chased temporary pleasure that lasted a single lifetime. He couldn't be as low as a subjugated king.

But he was still lower than two, no matter how he held himself or wielded his nature or set up his board.

Father was one matter, one that could be dealt with because he had lowered himself already just by submitting to the human state and changing. Loving. He just hadn't realized it yet. He would when Samael let him, and then he would be debased.

The one who stood in Samael's way wasn't Father.

His fangs grit.

It was Lucifer. First of them, the shining beacon and one who could not be dominated. The great wyrm who blocked the way to reach his goal.

And he was so very smug about it, too.

Gehenna breathed around Samael as he moved through space-time, ignoring the sensation of Father running rampant through Assiah. As much as one could ever ignore Father.

Too, he ignored the whisper of Rin in the time stream, the wild flames of creation wrapped up in the strings Mephisto guided him by.

Samael had a role to play that night.

He touched down by the Nephilim standing in for Shemihaza, a callous creature as cold and shriveled as the black heart beating in her flesh.

"Shall we, my dear?" he crooned regardless, taking his leading lady to the stage where she stayed out of sight until her moment would come.

"Lucifer," he said in deference to the one who blocked his way as he appeared in a hall filled with blackened corpses and one shell-shocked nephilim.

Although, Samael hid a cackle, in this one sense it was he who worked as the great dragon to Lucifer, blocking his way for a change.

"You cannot stop this, Samael," Lucifer said in that holier-than-thou way that set his fangs on edge in his mouth.

That was the great joke, the one Samael had with the universe.

"I only need a moment, dear brother."

His key clicked around the core of Lucifer's aspect, an event horizon forming as space-time intersected light and stretched into infinity.

It held, he could feel light straining against his aspect and nearly moaned at the sensation, vessel shivering despite himself the longer he held Lucifer.

Shemihaza appeared and moved his timeline forward, snapping Samael from his moment and bringing him back into his role.

The acceleration took over, Lucifer's vessel falling under Shemihaza's assault as he crumbled to ash at Samael's feet.

If only it were permanent.

He sighed and smiled at the weary human who would go on to play her part beautifully the rest of the long night as more of her clan poured in around her to collect Lucifer.

Then he turned and paused.

Eyes a clear blue in the shape of those he'd just watched vanish into ash stared vacantly up at him from the floor.

Oh. Samael smiled wider and it held teeth. The spare.

Little Angel wouldn't react to his fangs. He wouldn't react to many things for quite some time.

Which made him a broken toy and not one worth playing with. Yet, at least.

Over the slim shoulder, Jeremiah put several things together and Samael let him, watching the soft, covetous hand fall on Angel where it lingered.

Sweet lamb, already joining the flock.

Samael vanished and the Blue Night continued.

---

Hatred darkened the otherwise perfectly pleasant expression facing him, though it never reached the smile stretching across Jeremiah's face.

It was something in the eyes, the windows to the soul, and what Jeremiah's soul told Samael was that he would like nothing more than to see him in torment for the rest of his days.

Which, given Jeremiah was a Shemihaza descendent without a drop of real power to his name, wasn't likely to ever happen.

"Ah, Sir Pheles, please, make yourself at home," Jeremiah said, hands behind his back. "What business has brought you here today, if I may ask?"

He may. It wouldn't make him any more pleased to see Samael.

"Of course," Samael demured, prolonging the pain his presence brought the man in front of him as he let his gaze wander.

The Garden of Amhara looked as it always did, eternal and full of growth without death. His antithesis. Its very sight brought visions of destruction to mind. He wanted nothing more than to see it blackened and tarnished, the perfection marred by the reality of the end of all things. Creation couldn't exist without destruction, after all.

But this was Shemihaza's territory and he wouldn't lift a claw to cut one of the vibrant, green leaves of the plants surrounding him, this time, at least. All things would come at one point or another, and today was not the day for it.

"Sir?" The irritation lurked just beneath the surface.

Before he answered, an interruption came in the form of movement in the garden and Samael turned, pausing as he observed the source of the sound.

"Authur," Jeremiah said, voice tight, and it pricked a piece of Samael that rose to attention, roused by something he couldn't place just yet. "I'm sorry, but I'm busy with a guest right now, could you go find Hilikah with whatever question you have until I've finished?"

Oh. No. They couldn't have that. Samael smiled and spoke. "Actually, my business somewhat involves him, so he's free to stay and listen."

Not that he truly needed Angel to stay, but he had named what emotion had tightened Jeremiah's expression and had decided it would be more interesting to keep prodding.

"Apologies," Jeremiah hid a stutter, smoothly sliding in front of Angel as if he could block him from Samael's gaze. "But what business could the director of the Japanese branch of the Order have with my ward?"

So possessive. One might think he was a demon with the way he kept Angel all to himself in their perfect garden away from outside influences.

"Why don't you introduce us, hm?" Samael interjected, beaming at Angel over Jeremiah's shoulder and getting an unknowing blink of blue eyes in a soft, boyish face, still round with youth and as cherubic as his name suggested.

He couldn't have been further from Lucifer if he tried.

"Arthur," that was definitely a sign of grit teeth behind Jeremiah's smile as he shifted to gesture at Angel, "this is Samael, one of the eight kings of Gehenna. You remember what I told you about them, right?"

Whatever it was had a purr going through his chest too soft for human hearing to pick up. He recognized that stiffening of shoulders and the way pupils dilated in blue eyes.

Fear.

Interesting. He tucked the simmering thought away to analyze later.

"The Order has sent me to see if you have any promising recruits who will be joining our ranks this year," Samael said, gaze going over Angel and watching the way it made Jeremiah's smile flatten.

"I see." Jeremiah folded his arms over his chest to hide his hands. "Thank you for personally making your way here to let us know."

It seemed Samael had worn his welcome thin.

"I shall give the list of recruits to the Grigori within the next day."

"And don't let the celestial door hit you on the way out," was the implied end to his statement Samael pretended not to hear.

"Please, I have other matters to attend to, if that's all," Jeremiah said, sounding as strained as Samael had hoped for.

He bowed, summoning said door and turning to leave after a polite farewell.

Blue eyes made him pause, and Samael let a smile draw over his fangs, a flash of the dangerous creature he was stealing across his features.

There, hitched breath, pupils dilating and a sweet fear that made his instincts shift with the desire to raise more of those reactions forth.

The doors closed behind him and he appeared back in his office. Thinking.

Angel was the best kind of human. Vulnerable once one got past all the layers of delusion wrapped around a defenseless core. Once one found the best way to strike a mortal blow, letting them bleed out as they ran until they couldn't anymore.

There was something particularly sweet about Angel's vulnerability he couldn't quite place, though.

But, he simply didn't have the time to indulge in more than little jabs of poison, not when he had his goal to pursue.

---

"How could the Order allow a traitorous beast like you in its ranks?" the sneering words brought Samael around and he beamed, innocence practically oozing from his smile.

"Arthur!" he said in response, nodding to the glaring teen who had officially joined the Order as a new page. "I'm certain you've done your research. Surely the answer was in one of your readings, yes?"

After all, who and what he was was public knowledge in the Order if one had access to its extensive libraries with all the history one could ask for on how they'd begun to fight the good fight against evil. Even first-year students had access to the knowledge, and it was very simple to see who had been running the Japan Branch of the Order for the past two hundred years since its inception.

"I don't trust you, demon," Arthur said with all the righteous fury his small body could muster. So full of bravado, here in the halls of the Order that promised safety for its students.

The Academy was warded with the second most powerful defense in existence, created and maintained by their very own devil that stalked the halls.

They were safer than any other location on Assiah.

"I'm wounded, dear Arthur," Samael pressed a hand to his chest in mock affront. "I can't see how I've ever done something to personally incite such vitriol from you."

"I don't know how the Order can't see it, but I know you're planning something, vile creature, and I'll be the one to stop you," Angel spat, narrowed eyes as he began to march away.

"I'm sure you will," Samael said, a curl of fang in his smile and serpent's hiss in his voice that sent a shiver through Angel he wasn't experienced enough to hide from him just yet.

---

The current timeline grated on him in ways he hadn't fully uncovered.

It wasn't to say he hadn't experienced much of the same flow of events in the current stream, but Samael found himself enjoying his darker games more often than the rest. He still played his role, but there was an edge to it he had become aware of that he had to work twice as hard to tamp down or risk sending the timeline on a route he hadn't intended.

Several times he'd danced too far over the edge of his true nature and seen wariness in precious pawns like Shiro where he hadn't meant to induce it.

But he'd enjoyed it. The serpent in his belly that always waited and hungered flicked a tongue at the traces of fear he inspired, tasting it in the air and knowing it meant prey wandered nearby.

Something had roused it from its controlled slumber, had stoked it to attention, and sent it searching for more.

He thought of the slivers of fear he satiated himself with. They were good, savored in the way he savored them all. But not the particular flavor he must have tasted at some point or another that had him craving more of it over the other kinds.

What he did know was that it was an unnecessary distraction, but one which could hinder him when he didn't need it and therefore was something he had to resolve before it became a larger problem.

Samael hummed and made a note to himself to track down the source of his distraction so he could eliminate it, then resumed his games.

---

The shining beacon of the Order flipped his hair he had grown long and luxurious as he swept through Samael's territory, inspiring awed whispers about his strength and rapid rise through the ranks, much the same way Shiro had once upon a time.

Shiro had fallen from grace, however, and the burden he'd had forced on his shoulders kept him from rising again.

Exactly as Samael needed.

Just the same, Angel was exactly where he was needed. Proud and without peer, with whom all the dreams and aspirations of the Order rested on. He was blindly glad to carry them, too. Taking up modeling contracts, living lavishly and accepting his position with that same puffed-up chest he'd once confronted Samael with.

Their paths didn't cross often, however. The recent appearance was something of an anomaly and also an annoyance. He had more interesting games to play than with the brash youth currently pushing his way into his office as if it belonged to him in any way.

"I am here on behalf of the director of the French branch of the Order," Angel began without even the pretense of a greeting. He slapped a sheaf of papers onto Samael's desk and stood over him with his arms crossed, scowling.

How rude.

Samael smiled and leaned back, enjoying the anger he could see the languid move inspired.

"Wonderful to see you, Arthur," he gestured broadly, a chair appearing and sending Angel stiffening, though he ignored the offered seat. "Please, take a moment to relax, you've traveled so far just to deliver these directives when a phone call would have sufficed."

Grinding teeth reached his ears and he smiled at an insult received. One that could be understood by the intended target, as not many of his jabs ever did more than go over Angel's pretty head.

"I have more important things to do than play delivery boy," Angel said with an imperious shake of his head. "Now, take those and sign them so I can be on my way."

So high and mighty. Very like another, in fact.

A flash of blue eyes met his gaze and he let his lip rise over a fang in a slow smile. Testing.

Angel didn't disappoint, an aborted shift back and dilating pupils spoke of the wariness he tried so hard to cover when around Samael. He must have heard truly terrible things from his dear brother about Samael. Or just the truth.

Given how many couldn't or refused to see the reality of things, it put Angel a sliver above the rest.

That sliver needled at Samael, noticeable despite its insignificance.

Something about it…

"And there you have it," he chirped, signing the last section with a flourish of his gel pen. A blue to match Angel's eyes. "Please give my regards to your superior."

"Not for long," Angel growled. "I'm going to be the greatest Paladin the Order has ever seen. Better than that failure of a Paladin right now."

Oh, poor Shiro's actions would tarnish him for the rest of his days. But, just as Shiro had fallen to a demon–to him–so too would Angel.

"I look forward to your meteoric rise, Arthur," Samael said in a purr he allowed to rumble in his chest, claws clicking over the desk by the papers as Angel reached to grab them away.

The clicks and his inhuman sound made Angel tear them from his desk in a jerky movement before stalking from the room without a word.

Something about it made Samael hunger.

---

Angel performed admirably, already the darling of the Order.

He shone on the battlefield and it drew both reverent eyes and demonic.

They couldn't seem to help themselves, Samael noticed on a particular mission he'd decided to oversee for entertainment.

With each Angel cut down, more threw themselves after him as if desperate to snuff their lives out against his light.

Moths to flames.

A small flame, really. In the scheme of things, Angel was another flicker of Assiah. Something short-lived, even if he sparked brightly for a moment.

Still, that wisp of Lucifer's light was enough for the lesser beasts to want to snuff it out before it reached its zenith.

It would take more than they could muster. Lucifer's nephilim could be fragile, but Angel had been built up under the careful corrections of Shemihaza's pets, and the cracks in his walls would take more than the garden-variety demons could bring to bear.

Samael watched and thought of Lucifer.

His gums ached where fangs wanted to extend.

---

All good things came to an end eventually.

His precious pawn was sacrificed to allow Rin to join the field, a much more valuable player by far, even if he'd enjoyed Shiro while he'd lasted. It also meant the next stage of his timeline had arrived, and with it, Lucifer.

He stood before Samael on the outskirts of his territory, a scene he'd witnessed so many times over now that he could measure it by the beats of Lucifer's ragged vessel's heart.

Signs of rot sprang over Lucifer even beneath the elaborate uniform and mask he wore. The shaking limbs and coughing fits that rattled through his lungs seemed to betray weakness.

Samael knew it for a lie.

Any true weakness wouldn't be found in Lucifer. He could wipe Assiah from existence and had threatened to on the Blue Night.

It was another part of the little game they played. Lucifer with his grand vision of peace was anathema to Samael's entire being in much the same way Shemihaza's order was. The thought of such a world rankled at him as surely as the shackles on Amaimon did. And much the same way Amaimon couldn't free himself from that debasement, Samael was forever trapped by the gap separating him from Lucifer's might.

Behind the protective barrier he'd created from his cloak and shadows, Rin cowered with the rest of his pawns, and he wondered what he felt. If he was as disgusted with Lucifer as Samael. If he hated.

"We will rejoin Assiah and Gehenna as one and return to the nothingness that preceded light and dark," Lucifer spoke, commanding despite the blood flecking to the edges of his mask. The gold gleamed with his light and it made the red appear brighter.

"The world will know true peace." Lucifer finished. Samael hadn't heard the part just before, but he'd listened often enough that he could have delivered it himself word for word.

"Will you join me?" Lucifer asked as he did in every timeline, the extended olive branch coated in a golden poison that would have choked Samael if he ever took it.

"Never," he snarled as he always did.

Lucifer delivered the remains of his declaration of war, and Samael sneered when he acknowledged Rin as if he hadn't already fully tucked him beneath his wing, far beyond Lucifer's light.

Placid green eyes closed in a slow blink and, without thought, Samael let his fangs extend, lips sliding over them in a smile of threat as a sliver of Gehenna rose beneath his skin to warp his features into something inhuman.

And Lucifer turned to leave without a single sign that he noticed the display at all.

Anger seared through Samael in a flash of fire that surprised him in its intensity. Sickening, acid hate rose in his throat that bit at him to act, to shed his human skin and put real fear into Lucifer until his eyes shown with it.

A sudden image of Lucifer laid bare beneath him, surrounded in his own viscera and stripped of all his might struck Samael with a violence he let tear through his veins, none of its fever reaching his body outwardly but affecting him all the same. Unlike Lucifer, he couldn't afford an affectation of weakness.

The flames of his rage never reached his face, but internally he scowled, wondering where the fury had spawned from as he played his role despite the viciously stinging barbs hooked through his body and stretching him thin.

"Hey, Mephisto! Are you just going to stand there and watch?" Rin brought him back to the current moment in a jerk, pulling at him like a tether he held at one end and reminding Samael he could ruminate later.

Later.

It came to him as he replayed the blip in his timeline, turning the sequence over and over as he tapped his claws to his desk in a metronome.

Fear. He'd been expecting it when he'd raised a lip over his fangs and bared the smallest hint of his true aspect. Despite the fact that even his full, undiluted self could never have such an effect and it was laughable to think about. They were of Gehenna, he and Lucifer. It wasn't something that could inspire fear.

Still, the thought of fear, of vulnerability, in Lucifer sang to him in a siren song. It spilled past his lips like a sweet wine he could nearly taste on his tongue. As if he'd had it before.

Except, in all the timelines he'd explored, not a one had gifted him Lucifer's fear, let alone at his hands. Something about it drifted just out of his reach like he could recall it if he searched enough. That flavor eluded him and made it that much more alluring because of it.

Widened eyes, hitched breath, weakness.

Samael sucked in a short inhale.

Of course.

Where Lucifer wouldn't ever show true weakness, a vessel of his, one without the power and ego behind it, would be all too easy to inspire the signs of fear he craved seeing. One such vessel existed at the moment who he had enjoyed drawing the signs from.

Angel.

Dear, sweet, simple, Angel.

He stopped tapping his fingers on the desk and smiled at a knot untangled. He'd discovered what had been vexing him in this particular timeline.

Seeing the little vestigial fangs of a Nephilim grit in Angel's mouth and his abortive flinches registered as something much sweeter to Samael. It registered as Lucifer displaying that weakness.

Samael knew what he would do then.

He was going to introduce Angel to Lucifer early in this timeline. He deserved it.

Introductions would take time. There were steps he had to follow, etiquette to the cosmic game he and Lucifer had set up between each other.

He had to extend the invitation first.

Samael rearranged his board in his head and chose a time and location that was suitable.

Then he sat back to let the pieces find their places.

---

That demon was scheming, he knew it.

Angel scowled and fought the urge to always keep Mephisto in his direct line of sight.

"You're gonna get wrinkles frowning like that, haha," Lewin spoke up next to him, a finger coming to prod at his cheek and making him jerk back.

"What are you talking about, Lightning? I've got a perfect beauty routine," he snapped.

"Oh? Please share, I'd love to introduce something new into my routine," a voice piped in from his blind spot and Angel flinched, his glare back on his face to see that somehow the monster had vanished from his last position.

Serpentine eyes seemed to glow with an insidious light that bore into Angel.

"Nothing could hide the evil under your skin, demon," he said, ignoring the mock pout that stole over the grin Mephisto wore.

He collected himself and went to his seat for the meeting instead of letting the demon know he'd been thrown off.

"Everyone settled in?" Mephisto began once they'd all sat. The Arc Knights who had their keys and were physically in the room and the Grigori members on their screens they'd phoned in.

Angel wished he'd had the luxury for not the first time, although he did enjoy getting to speak with Lewin when he could.

His presence was the only reason he could relax around that devil in white that was allowed onto holy grounds so brazenly.

"Begin, Sir Pheles," Shemihaza said.

"Yes, of course," Mephisto made a show of steepling his hands, and Angel focused on them, seeing he'd hidden his claws. As if that would make Angel forget what he was.

"We've received disturbing reports ever since Lucifer's declaration of war that may be related to activity on their end."

At that, Angel perked up. Activity meant demonic, a chance for him to remove more of the vile creatures from Assiah. It would let him prove to himself that he was performing well. Not that he had a shadow of a doubt on that front.

Now more than ever he had to perform his duties and be the bright light of the Order.

"What's all going on that these got picked up?" Lewin said and took Angel from his thoughts to see him going over the files they'd been handed.

As strange as Lewin was, Angel would trust him to keep Mephisto on his toes.

"Inside information from mister Renzo, our spy in the Illuminati, as well as data we've collected ourselves on scouting missions" Mephisto rattled off like he'd memorized it rote. "We like to be thorough, you know."

The double agent–a student–as if he could be trusted any more than the demon who'd scouted him initially. "And why should we take ourselves around the world chasing these leads from such a dubious source?"

His words once again achieved the opposite effect. Mephisto rocked in his chair like a child, nodding along as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"Well, we can always move to interrogate him, if you think it would grant us more reliable information," Mephisto said with a shrug.

"But, given the danger levels of the activity we've picked up, you may be inclined to accept them anyway."

Danger levels? Angel finally flipped through the folders and frowned.

Many were to places more suited to Lewin's inclinations. Sneaking somewhere without fan fair and uncovering the suspicious creatures causing trouble.

Others would suit Lucy or Osceola and Shura.

But…several stuck out to him and a thrill went through his body at a perfect opportunity to show that beast, Lucifer, that they would answer his declaration with a proper show of strength.

"Well?"

Angel looked up and felt his fist clench over the papers. The previously human hands bore the black tips of claws on Mephisto where he propped his cheek to his knuckles.

The other hand drummed a slow pattern that let the light above them gleam off black edges.

"I'll be taking these," Angel broke from his stasis with a snap and rose from the chair. "No matter what, my duty requires me to vanquish demons of this caliber."

"You need me along, buddy?" Lewin said from where he leaned back in his chair. The mussed bangs of his scruffy hair he refused to allow Angel to offer his stylist to attend shifted to show his eyes scanning him as if concerned.

"Ahahaha!" Angel laughed and brought his hands to his hips, shaking his head. "Please, these demons will break under my might and I'll show that great defiler who should fear who."

Directives decided, Angel took his chosen missions and left to prepare.

---

A light kin shrieked at him as he cut it down in a sweep of Caliburn. The demon sword was only too glad to feast on the beasts he deigned to give her.

"Oh, Arthur," she crooned at him as he turned to a brilliant flash of light that heralded a second light kin. "Let me have another."

He would. "Ready yourself, Caliburn."

Much the same as the last, the demon couldn't stand up to his power and fell in shimmering sparks.

Only he could conquer where others of his brothers and sisters in the Order would falter.

Angel swept the area a last time before returning to the nearby town that had been suffering under the influence of demons. He'd rented one of the best lodgings in the area and looked forward to the hot bath he'd requested to be drawn for him upon his return.

As expected, the bath already steamed and he noted to tip the staff well.

What wasn't expected was the letter sitting innocuously on the edge of the tub.

It stared up at him as he approached with a suspicious frown.

Immediately, he recognized the sender.

Several small stickers of a white dog overlaid on the pink surface of the envelope, which had been decorated in the way a teen girl might send to her crush.

It was no teen girl, but Mephisto doing his usual mockery of a performance.

He opened the letter, needing to get to the bottom of its appearance in his room.

'Dear Arthur, congrats on your mission's success! I'm assuming, of course, if you're reading this letter.

Keep up the great work! Your family is sure to be proud of the young man they've raised. They've certainly got no reason not to be, given where you came from to now!

You'll blow through these in no time~

Johann Faust V'

Meaningless. Angel crumpled the letter in his hand and threw it in the nearest bin. Of course his family was proud of him. What was it any of Mephisto's business, anyway?

He couldn't help feeling as if his bath was less relaxing than it should have been, and the letter was hard to ignore even out of sight. As if he might find the sender had invited himself in if he closed his eyes too long.

---

"These dudes just keep cropping up, huh?" Lewin said, scratching at his hair.

"What?" Angel furrowed his brows. "Of course, we're at war."

Lewin just shook his head and gestured to the files they'd been going over. "You haven't noticed?"

"Noticed what?" Sometimes Lewin could be frustratingly vague instead of just outright saying things.

"All these missions you're taking are coming back with light kin, and it's not like those guys are easy to come by, y'know?"

Angel snorted. "The King of Light must be sending them out with a purpose we haven't discovered yet."

"Maybe," Lewin said, once again not making any sense.

But he could see when Lewin was in a particular way where he needed to pick apart some puzzle, so Angel left him to it.

---

The Garden of Amhara bloomed around him as he made his daily rounds.

Jeremiah could have left such matters to other members of their family, but he used the time to think, and he needed to do quite a bit of it in the present.

His dear brother was quite busy in recent days with his duties taking him across Assiah.

While many of those missions were sensitive, Jeremiah made it his own mission to keep an eye on where Arthur went to.

An older brother worried, after all.

With the path Arthur had been led along, the types of missions he took would perhaps be too much too soon. They could lead him to truths Jeremiah hadn't deemed him ready for yet.

However…

It could be good fortune.

When Lord Lucifer saw the work that had gone into crafting such a perfect vessel, he would surely be pleased. And given how quickly the other prong of their plans was progressing, it would be nearly time anyway.

He would see about finding more missions that set Arthur further along his current path.

Jeremiah hummed and concluded his walk, thinking about the sweet, obedient child he had raised with such care.

It was time he fulfilled his purpose.

---

Angel was dogged, as usual, long used to ignoring how viciously demons seemed to attack him over any other exorcist.

It was what Jeremiah said once when he'd asked why demons flocked to him above all others. He was a beacon amongst the Order, of course they would want to target him when he shone so brilliantly.

The missions were taxing, but no more than he could handle. Each, he brought the might of the Paladin against, sending more and more of the accursed light kin back to Gehenna where they'd send the message to Lucifer that Angel would fight against any foe he sent.

He didn't need Lewin telling him to be careful during their last call. It was belittling, for one. For another, his missions didn't require him to be careful, only decisive.

Putting a stop to the light kin didn't require finesse like some missions did, any first-year exwire could see that.

Unlike the first years, Angel was Paladin, and he took the missions others couldn't.

'When was the last time you've been home? I understand it can be difficult to be without family for so long and we can't have our best getting homesick!

It slipped my mind, but your parents were originally aristocrats before they fell to demons. The Uzai family were so kind to take you in!

Have you ever thought to search for any remainders of your family? They could use a shining example such as yourself.

Give Jeremiah my regards! Johann Faust V''

Another utterly infuriating letter had appeared, one of many he'd received and ignored as much as the last.

Although he couldn't help his mind from going to the places brought up by Mephisto's letters.

He didn't get homesick, not when he was meant to be an example to others of strength. And where others might need to go home and renew their family bonds, he knew he was better served away.

It was better. His brother was proud of him, he'd told him so on their last call, in fact.

So, he didn't need to return.

And what did that damned demon mean? Bringing up his biological family?

Angel hadn't thought of them in years, not when his duties had taken over his life and he didn't remember anything before he'd turned fifteen, anyway.

They'd all died in the demonic attack at their home. Why would any remain?

It wasn't as if he'd never thought to look into his old family. He'd been told about them and how he'd come to join the Uzai, but Jeremiah and Hilikah had told him all he needed to know, so it hadn't been important to look further.

Having Mephisto bring it up made him both want to forget it entirely and also dig at it until he figured out his angle.

"Lightning must be enjoying his own letters," Angel muttered to himself, thinking about how obnoxious the correspondence was and, still, how much his friend was fascinated by the things. He even saved them!

Ridiculous concept.

As was his homesickness and anything to do with his old family.

---

Lewin watched and considered and chewed the sight over in his mind like a stick of gum.

Once again, Angel let a loud laugh cover that he wanted to glare at mocking green eyes where they peered unerringly from the end of the table.

He'd noticed–after careful attention made easier to conceal by his mussed bangs–that slit pupils never really strayed too far from Angel.

Given, he was a loud guy and often took the center of attention just by his general disposition, but Lewin wasn't so sure a being like Mephisto cared about stuff like that. Not unless he wanted to.

So why then, did he keep feeling like the way Mephisto followed Angel with his gaze was more than just the typical attention they all paid Angel when he spoke?

Things had gotten so tense, both amongst the general exorcists in the Order and their own small group.

With the changing season moving closer to the due date Lucifer had set, even if the rest of the various branches didn't know the details, they could sense the storm on the horizon. They could see the types of missions taking a turn for the worse because the frequency of demonic activity had also increased due to the Gehenna Gate's existence.

Even with Mephisto holding it in stasis, demons could sense the countdown to when it would fall because of whatever connection they held with Gehenna itself. At least, that was the posited reason, though no demon could quite explain it in a way that made sense. Thought that just made Lewin want to dig further until he understood it, but he'd been told to focus on other matters by the Grigori rather than the nearing fall of the barrier.

Lewin shuddered to think about what waited for the barrier to fall. Given, it was a shudder of excitement, but he couldn't help himself when it came to those kinds of things.

Which was why he recognized the sight of it in Mephisto.

That gleam in his eyes was anticipation. For what? He couldn't say. But he wasn't so sure it belonged anywhere near Angel.

It was hard keeping track of Angel when he kept haring off to take on the big missions alone, though, and while Lewin had full confidence in his buddy, he could get a bit laser-focused on a mission and miss the bigger picture.

Bigger picture, or–Lewin glanced at Mephisto again–bigger machinations surrounding him, something he usually relied on Lewin to catch.

"Continue as you have been, Arthur," Shemihaza directed, expressionless beneath her hooded robe. "Keep pursuing the light kin sightings and eliminate them."

Before Lewin could object, she turned her attention to him and ordered, "Everyone else, you have your tasks. Report your findings. Dismissed."

That was that. A frown tugged at Lewin's mouth as Angel left and the others signed off. The last to do so was Mephisto, waving with a cheerful smile and flash of fang. Aside from the staring, he hadn't seemed to do anything out of the ordinary.

Lewin chewed at his lip and left for his own missions, thinking.

---

His parents were the Duke Arthur Angel of Saintford, England, and French aristocrat, Augusta Lorraine.

Angel had no reason to doubt that fact he'd grown up learning about himself from his adoptive family the moment he'd been deemed old enough to know. In fact, to do so because of the insidious ramblings of a demon was tantamount to blasphemy.

What would Jeremiah have to say about his thoughts?

Not that he was having any thoughts that would get him in trouble! He knew better. He'd been raised better. Angel just wanted to know why the records for his family were clearly falsified in some way. Or not falsified, but tampered with.

He tapped a foot to the plush carpet of his hotel and fought with himself over the signs he'd discovered when doing a cursory–cursory–dig into his past.

All the children taken in by the Order had papers drawn up for them or doctored in some way. It was necessary given so many were orphans or carried demonic ancestry of some sort that led to them being prime exorcist candidates but discarded by their families who couldn't handle the truth.

The truth being that there were such terrible things in the world and their child could see them, see reality for what it was. It left the children from those families in rough situations that required a paper trail to allow them to ease back into society with their previous history concealed.

Angel couldn't imagine being so blind.

It made what he saw all the more troublesome, though.

If he'd come from a respectable family and been adopted into the Uzai's as he'd been told, then the Order should have never needed to doctor his records in the typical way. So why did he then see the signs of it in his birth records? In all his records up until he turned fifteen?

Was there some lie in his Uncle's words? In Jeremiahs?

Fear twisted its gruesome claws into his heart and he growled, teeth gritting until a muscle in his jaw twinged at the force. He shook his head, forcing his jaw open to let a harsh breath hiss free.

Of course, the information meant nothing. That demon was clearly planning something and he wouldn't fall for its ploys.

Maybe, though, since he had the documents, he could talk to Jeremiah. Not because he believed that rotten demon, but because it would be good to see his brother as he always did when he felt doubt.

---

The demons had grown prolific, menacing the innocent humans Angel defended at every turn, it seemed. And Lightning was off chasing some harebrained hunch of his Angel had seen him dragging that new apprentice to help him with when he'd visited the Japan Branch.

That was fine, even when Lightning had smelled strange when he'd seen him briefly.

In fact, he'd smelled like jasmine. A floral scent that was familiar in a way Angel couldn't place but that sent his hackles rising and nerves on edge. But, his new pupil was with him and he must have been a good influence in handling Lightning to get him to use anything besides the most utilitarian soaps to wash with.

He stalked to the doors of the Grigori headquarters and took a key to the office of the beast that dared to sit there as if it belonged, opening the door without knocking. It was a farce to even bother with niceties when a demon of Samael's caliber would know he was there already and didn't deserve the respect owed a human, anyway.

"Your traitor of a spy must be withholding something important in his reports," Angel began as he slammed down a file he'd filled with papers. Each of them contained pieces he'd gathered that made no sense and therefore must be there as a way to throw him off the chase.

A small green hamster sat on the wide brim of Mephisto's hat where it chewed at whatever it had in its cheek pouches. Demonic in nature, no doubt. The green reminded Angel that many poisonous creatures were brightly colored. It could be seen in the way Mephisto wore his colors on his sleeves for all to see.

"Ah, another detective coming to me for assistance–what can I help you with, Angel," Mephisto said, a purr in his chest that had Angel scowling harder. Inhuman fiend.

"I won't play games with you," he flipped the folder open, "not until you explain to me why it looks like your spy's information is leading me in circles."

The blatantly false expression of surprise had his gaze narrowing.

"Won't play games, hmm?" Samael said with a quirk of his lips before straightening and shaking his head. "Well, I'm afraid I'm not sure what you're showing me. Care to explain?"

"Don't take me for a fool,* Angel leaned in and pushed the folder closer.

"I have been chasing these light kin around Assiah, each deemed somehow important to the Illuminati in some way."

He'd demanded the demons to give him the information he sought for the Order. Some clue as to the Illuminati headquarters or another lab like the one discovered in Japan. Nothing had come up.

The light kin had watched him with glittering eyes and tilted heads as if trying to understand him, like he hadn't been clear enough.

They'd died without a word, leaving him successful, yet not.

And leading him back to the source.

"So, either these demons are simply unaware of their master's bidding, or excellent at holding their tongues–" he tapped a finger to the papers– "Or your spy is feeding us false information and leads to keep me busy."

Which meant Mephisto was feeding him false information.

"He's done nothing of the sort," Mephisto denied without a hint of concern. "And as I've said, you're free to interrogate him if you think he might be double-crossing us."

Claws came to slip the files from under Angel's trembling fingers, nearly brushing his skin and sending him back from the desk.

"Yes," Mephisto scanned the mission reports, "in fact, I'm sure these are all sending the king of light a very clear message."

A gleam had entered Mephisto's eyes that reminded Angel of the light kin he'd exorcised. An acid-green light that slid from the files up to him and lingered, leaving Angel feeling as if it would seep past his skin to his bones.

"A message without an answer," Angel snapped when he couldn't stand the sensation anymore.

Mephisto waved a hand his way as he set the files down. "Not for much longer, I think."

"What does that mean?" Angel hissed.

Nothing. "Why don't we wait until the next Grigori meeting and see if anything turns up."

"Fine," Angel said, voice a growl as he forced himself calm with a deep breath.

He turned and strode to the door, key in hand, before his senses registered the scent he'd been breathing in the entire time since he'd entered the office.

Jasmine.

His hand trembled, the key rattling against the lock with the unbidden movement.

Without his say, Angel jerked his gaze to the demon watching him with a smile. The smile showed a hint of fangs, and he froze.

Beside Mephisto, the hamster watched unnervingly from maroon, pupilless eyes.

"Something the matter, Angel?" Mephisto rumbled and clicked his claws to the desk. They were long, dagger-like.

The key in his hand found the lock and twisted as Angel left without a word.

---

"A new possible base?"

Lightning shifted in his seat, gaze going between the room's occupants.

"Worse, I'm afraid," Mephisto said with a shake of his head and raised hands. "Given the reports and the data we've collected from the Gehenna Gate in Siberia, this may be a second gate."

Murmuring went up, and Lewin heard the fear beneath it.

"A backup?" he said as he tried to work through the buzzing in his veins.

A second gate? They just barely had enough members to study the first, let alone guard it.

"Is this gate constructed yet or do we have time before it's operational?" Shemihaza asked.

"Can you halt time on it like the other one, Sir Pheles?" Lucy added, though by her expression she knew the answer.

"Unfortunately," Mephisto sighed, the picture of regret, "my body is fighting as it is with the strain of holding the first gate in stasis. If I attempt a second, I'll lose this vessel and the first gate will open."

"This says it's still in production," Angel said, hand coming down on the hilt of his sword. "I'll destroy it before it can reach that stage."

Green flickered like embers around slivering pupils locked onto Angel.

Lewin's eyes widened at the sight and he rose. "Hey, you mean we'll all go, right?"

Beside him, Lucy and Osceola shifted, frowning at Angel.

"Yes, I know you're young and energetic, but this is a potential disaster we can't afford to miss a step on," Lucy said, folding her arms while Osceola nodded his agreement.

"Do you think I can't handle this?" Angel smiled, confident and proud and the brightest spot in the room.

"You're crazy, baldy," Shura snapped with a glare. "There's no way you can go this alone. You need backup!"

Laughter came from Angel, brushing Shura's worry off as he propped his hands on his hips in a familiar pose. "Your concern and dedication is admirable but I'll be fine. These demons will rue the day they went against me."

Drac raised a pointed finger, Lewin stiffening as he recalled the information from Mephisto he'd shaken loose. Section Thirteen and the Order's clone research for kings. The lead he'd been chasing down that cooled the heat from Mephisto and put it all on Drac Dragulescue. That named him the spy in the Order feeding the Illuminati information.

"If I may," Drac said, "these reports suggest a project in it's infancy. Not a fully operational facility."

"It may be perfectly feasible not to split our manpower and let the Paladin take care of it before it becomes a problem."

"It's already a problem," Osceola said in a weary grumble, massaging at his temple.

"I've been handling the worst Gehenna can spew up," Angel cut in with an irritated toss of his hair. "This will send the message loud and clear to the enemy."

That was awesome but– "Hey I love sending messages as much as you, buddy. You know I've got a creative flair for it."

–but Lewin had connected some dots while others worryingly floated untethered around him just waiting to be lashed into the web.

Drac. Mephisto. The Order and Section Thirteen, and the information he'd discovered about Angel that his buddy didn't know or didn't remember yet. But he leaned towards not remembering.

"You believe you can handle a mission of this magnitude alone, Arthur?" Shemihaza said, quieting the room.

Why did that sound challenging? Like she goaded Angel? Was Lewin reading too deeply into things? Allowing his paranoia and bias color his perception?

"Far be it for me to pressure anyone," Mephisto spoke up, "but the sooner this gets resolved the better."

He looked faintly concerned, faintly bored, and both of those things couldn't cover the way he smiled at Angel. "We should remember, however, that my brother will likely take this blow personally, so retribution is inevitable."

Demon kings didn't take things personally, not in the way that a human did. Or, Lewin reshaped the thought in his head, the things that angered and slighted them weren't the same as a human.

"We should prepare for such an outcome," Azazel's representative said, getting agreement from the others, though Shemihaza only set her hands in her lap. Lewin couldn't see her eyes beneath her hood. He thought she might have been looking at Mephisto.

"Then let me go in and have the rest on reserve should a retaliation happen," Angel said, even more convinced of his decision.

Lewin knew a losing battle when he saw one. He especially knew Angel.

"You know we're right behind you if you need us," he said and got a blinding smile in return, Angel leaving to gather what he needed for his mission.

The rest of the meeting sped around him, a blur of orders and planning he participated in with only half of his attention. The other half wound down thought trails and turned a puzzle around like he would find the missing pieces if he imagined them there enough.

Across from him, Mephisto looked pleased.

---

A bald peak split the sky overhead when Angel made it to the coordinates he'd been given.

At the foot of the mountain hid a metal door covered in frost. On it, he could see sigils burned into the surface, letting him know he'd found the right place.

Here, in the blinding expanse, he would make it so it was the light king who feared.

But first he had to go in and crush whatever vile plans festered with.

Angel brought Caliburn forth and took a single strand of his hair to her sharp edge. "Caliburn, I call you to my aid."

He sacrificed the strand to her hunger and swung the sword to cleave the door asunder.

Then Angel began his descent.

Cold metal swallowed him, and the light from outside quickly devoured until only the emergency lights lit the way down the halls. Their red glow faded in and out, dimming in patterns that joined the kaleidoscope he drove forward through.

And it was a kaleidoscope because it was as if his breaking the door was an alarm, bringing the first of his enemies from their crevasses to flood the hall with their faceted forms.

They were all light kin, Angel noted as he laughed at their pitiful cries, cutting them down and moving on.

He wasn't surprised, not when he'd been facing the beasts down for several missions already.

Still–Angel grunted and left a dissipating body behind him–a cherub like he'd just eliminated wasn't so common. In fact, no light kin was, which was why their recent spike in appearances could only be bad news.

The facility seemed barren despite the activity within. No humans wandered the halls, and missing panels exposed wires where they hadn't been placed yet.

Just demons roamed the empty rooms, stalking restlessly until they noticed him and swarmed like moths to a flame, burned out on his overwhelming attacks to let him advance.

Their movements made the hollow shell echo, reverberations ringing in his ears past the sounds of battle. Getting lost in the bowels of the mountain would be all too easy if he were any less versed in navigating.

"Mm, Arthur, watch out," Caliburn purred, "there's strong energy ahead."

Her gluttony would never be sated. Angel shook his head in disgust but readied himself for what waited behind the door.

Light blinded him but he moved on instinct, ducking to avoid an attack that seared through the door he'd just entered and rolling to a crouch. A blink cleared the spots from his vision and he grinned sharply to avoid gasping like he wanted.

Seraphim. One of the most powerful light kin. What was it doing here?

This was the same creature that had been used as a declaration of war to the Order. One who's energy, if loosed, could likely bring the whole facility crumbling down around their heads.

"I'll eliminate you before you can make the attempt," he said to himself and sheared several strands of hair free, knowing he needed to give Caliburn the exact amount of power he needed and no more or risk burying himself along with the enemy.

"Wonderful, Arthur," Caliburn crooned to his offering.

He attacked with a shout, dodging another wide burst of energy and retaliating with his own.

The fight sent a thrumming pulse through his veins, wholly taken in the rhythm of life and death he'd known as long as he did his name.

It was true, he'd had luxury few others enjoyed. But Angel hadn't lived a day without knowing his duty. It hounded him as much as the demons, an ever-present mantle he would carry as long as he lived so others wouldn't have to.

He would do it so others didn't suffer as his family and so many innocents had.

As he had.

Furious screeching deafened him as his last strike took the unholy seraphim from Assiah, its heat washing over him before dissipating and leaving him in a darkened room again.

"That was marvelous, Arthur," Caliburn said, and he heard a shiver in her voice.

Around them, the shadows grew, eating at the limited light until it seemed like he was the only bright thing left. His white paladin's uniform he'd had custom-made shone despite the few hits he'd taken. The scuffs would have to be dry-cleaned out.

His shoes were the worst off, some spots appearing nearly black because of an explosion that had come too close.

Although, he thought the damage wasn't as bad as it looked, only worsened by the darkness casting deep shadows across them that the pitiful light couldn't fight through.

If he was less experienced, he would listen to the fear telling him the floor would swallow him into the abyss if he stood there too long.

Soon it wouldn't matter.

Angel continued.

---

Angel was getting tired. He had defeated several seraphim and cherubs, both of which were supposed to be rare and difficult to find on Assiah.

He could feel the trembling in his body. He was strong, but usually his missions were over quickly due to that strength, and a siege like this was wearing on him faster than he thought.

How long had it been? He glanced at his watch only to blink wearily. The hands erratically spun around the face. Had he broken it during one of the many skirmishes?

There wasn't time to look closer, he needed to move.

"Another, Arthur?" Caliburn said as he unleashed her on the next wave. She sounded bloodthirsty, a little too quick to take what he gave.

Movement tore him back against the wall, and Angel gasped as a drag of energy left him dizzy. His hand shook where he'd swung Caliburn into the throat of the demon, neatly bisecting head from body to embed in the wall.

Yanking once didn't pry it loose and Angel fought not to sag, gritting his teeth and forcing the sword free.

He hadn't even offered anything to Caliburn for that attack, so why did his hands shake like he just–

Wait.

Angel shook from more than exhaustion as he stared at the smooth gray metal of his demon sword. The one he'd tamed himself and used where few other exorcists could.

"Caliburn," he began, voice low, "I did not give you permission to take from me."

Silence answered him, which was worse than an answer because Caliburn always answered when he called.

"Calib–" Another demon made it to his position and Angel shouted, fury and fear and something deeper than that bringing him to crush the disgusting creatures who couldn't leave him, leave Assiah, alone.

After, heaving a deep breath, Arthur brought Caliburn up and snarled at the demon. "You've been taking beyond your means."

She'd taken more from him than he was intending to give. Caliburn could sense his weakness and was testing the boundaries of their pact by siphoning off his energy, something he usually prevented just by his strength of will.

Cannibalizing him.

"Well?" he hissed out, stalking further down the hall, the one that must have been the last before he reached the center where the gate would be based on the designs of the other.

"Do you have any to say to your actions, demon?"

The door opened and Angel froze, grip faltering and heart tripping, refusing to stabilize the longer he stared into the center of the room.

Lucifer, king of light, first of the Ba'al of Gehenna under Satan, looked at him from where he stood in front of the unfinished gate, taking a minute before he spoke.

"Ah, I was wondering who was trying to gain my attention. It makes sense that it's you."

It made sense? Him? Of course it did, Angel had spent the last few months delivering a clear message and it seemed the foul beast had noticed his efforts at last.

Had noticed him.

Despite the massive escalation of danger of the situation, he'd been recognized.

Angel started to puff up, even though Lucifer's presence had shaken him to the core.

Before he could answer, the shadows that were always there came together and Mephisto slipped out of them behind Angel, ignoring him and his stricken surprise to bow to Lucifer.

What?

"Dear brother, eldest of us all, what a surprise you've got brewing here, I just had to see it for myself," Mephisto said, his eyes glowing acid green in the dark, though the rest of him was difficult to see, like he shifted on the edges, body engulfed in deep shadow.

"You've been a busy bee, but what could you be doing here personally?" It was posed as a question, but another part of Angel screamed that that was a lie, because Mephisto shouldn't have been there at all to even be surprised.

Angel couldn't hide a flinch when Mephisto beamed at him, about to start yelling until Mephisto vanished, appearing at his spine to stand over him and needle his claws into his shoulders in a pattern,

"That was quite the welcome party you rolled out," Mephisto continued, pulling Angel closer and ignoring his attempt to jerk free as he kept talking to Lucifer like he wasn't even there.

It was difficult to breathe, Angel's mind spiraling and failing to find an explanation for what he saw. His mouth worked silently, preparing Caliburn to strike–anything to get some distance, give himself space to think where he wasn't surrounded by monsters, the enemy, the ones Jeremiah warned him about and he'd grown up fighting.

"Is this your proxy for my attention, Samael?"

Angel froze, feeling his grip falter on Caliburn.

"Proxy?" Angel whispered. His voice came out as a rasp as Lucifer cocked his head, eyeing him like a small curiosity, as something unimportant. Not worth his attention.

The moue of confusion on Mephisto's face when Angel jerked his head to see how he'd respond began pulling a picture together of the truth of the situation.

All those years he'd warned anyone who would listen, the warnings he himself had received, they were real.

He fought the breaths that wanted to come too fast, too much. Because the dizziness in his head wouldn't stop the fact that it looked like the time king had betrayed the Order just as he warned everyone would happen.

Claws traced at his cheek and Angel finally found his voice.

"You wretched beast! You've proven beyond a shadow of doubt where your loyalties lie." He began to snarl accusations at Mephisto.

"When the Grigori hear about how you've conspired to speak with our enemies you'll be cast out like you should have been from the start!"

Wild energy ripped the words free, Angel speaking faster, louder, even as his veins iced over the longer he continued and Mephisto smiled wider and wider around his fangs.

Angel couldn't move. He shook, panting, running out of things to shout, bound by shadows that seemed to surround Mephisto's lower half where they hadn't been before. He looked less real, less solid.

He flicked his gaze to the silently considering mask of Lucifer's. Then looked back to Mephisto, not wanting to admit that he pleaded with him to say something to dispute all his accusations just like he always did.

Mephisto didn't, and silence rang around them.

Then Lucifer spoke. "Now, I remember you."

And Angel realized he'd been acknowledged for the first time.

"You were the clone who survived my light during the Blue Night."

Angel thought he'd started shaking again until he saw it was Mephisto fighting silent laughter at his side.

"What do you mean?" Angel asked, the world collapsing in on itself.

His eyes widened, unblinking as Lucifer began to speak of nightmares and things that couldn't be possible. They couldn't be, or it would mean that he'd been lied to, and everything he'd ever known was wrong.

A clone lab, countless children grown and experimented on to create perfect vessels for the kings. It had been run by the Order, headed by the Japan branch with the previous Grigori members' blessings and with Mephisto's oversight. It had been the place Satan had entered Assiah from.

His parents were the Duke Arthur Angel of Saintford, England, and French aristocrat, Augusta Lorraine.

The Uzai family who had taken him in, including his uncle Hilikah and brother Jeremiah, had been there along with Shemihaza to determine the success of the elixir experiments to heal Lucifer from his constant state of degradation.

His parents were the Duke Arthur Angel of Saintford, England, and French aristocrat, Augusta Lorraine.

Mephisto didn't deny a word.

'My parents were–'

Denial shriveled away in the silence and left him with nothing.

'I'm a clone. A Nephilim. Jeremiah lied. They all lied.' Angel sobbed as the truth threw itself in his face all at once.

He broke, hand torn by Caliburn, who shucked their pact to rip at his skin and take his life force as he lost the will to hold her at bay.

Blood splashed to the ground from his hand and Angel cried out, bleeding from the tear that had flayed him to the bone and sent him spasming. His efforts were meaningless, Caliburn ripping into him with psychic force that wouldn't let him drop her as if frantic, like if she stopped she would never get the chance again. A glut of his energy and blood before she drained him dry.

Mephisto snapped his fingers and destroyed Caliburn in front of Angel. Her death struck like a knife in the back, a wound he'd never expected to hurt, and it hit him what he'd been feeling earlier, that part of his heart her cannibalizing his energy had pricked.

Betrayal.

Then the momentary shock broke as Mephisto sighed, nearly moaning as he brought Angel's hand to his mouth and lapped at the blood.

His claws pulled Angel to his vessel that rapidly lost shape.

Angel was detached, staring at Lucifer as he removed his mask and he saw his own face staring back. There was already rot spreading around his mouth and hairline.

Claws joined Mephisto's suddenly and a growl left him, stopped by a bored voice and interrupting Mephisto from his motions–softly rolling hips, claws pricking red spots of pain into Angel, a scrape of fangs to his mangled hand–

"Is this where you've gone? Is this a new game?"

Ice encased Angel's already brittle heart.

"Amaimon." Mephisto looked unamused, but it was a familiar expression and Angel clung to it even as his world kept tilting on its axis.

"I want to play too." Angel didn't know what the earth king meant by play but nothing from a demon could be good. And certainly not from the tarnished king who was subjugated.

Mephisto indulged Amaimon, though, nodding, and Angel felt his stomach sink as a second body pressed up along him, bony limbs and dagger claws leaving lines that stung over his skin.

Mindlessly, animalistically, Angel began to struggle. He couldn't think of anything to do because all those stories about the Arc Knights being as strong as Kings were told to him and the rest of the Order, but they were lies because a human couldn't ever match a king, let alone three of them.

He felt something hard jut against him, head jerking to try seeing what it was, but all he caught were the reflective edges of crystalline skin because Amaimon had begun to shed some of his human form, rutting against him with soft growls that sent Angel's hindbrain screaming to feel so close.

Humans weren't meant to see so much of Gehenna.

Mephisto nuzzled at his throat and caught the hitched screams with his fangs.

A burn began to grow wherever Angel was wounded. It was a corruption by the kings spreading in his veins and making him dizzy, his mind recalled, bringing back countless lessons he'd long memorized.

Lucifer coughed, something wet in his lungs, and the sound sent another bolt of sickening fear through Angel, and he felt Mephisto harden against him as if in response.

"Is this a gift, Samael?" Lucifer said, still expressionless as he began to walk from the steps of the gate towards them.

"Yes, dear Lucifer," Mephisto hissed against his trembling throat with bared fangs. "I'm feeling giving."

Green eyes set in a face that cruelly matched his eclipsed Angel. He knew better than to stare at a demon too long, knew they could bewitch a human that way.

He couldn't fight it, whimpering as Lucifer pressed their lips together, the pressure unceasing and overbearing from a creature that wasn't used to being argued with or denied. Ever.

They began to take him apart between them, Mephisto not allowing him to get comfortable, sending fear in shots of adrenaline through his veins already worn thin every time he tried to relax enough to think straight.

Reality kept playing tricks on him, Gehenna seeping in through the cracks, and being so near the unfinished gate twisted his mind further.

His heart squeezed, too tight and threatening to burst from his ribs when they cracked from the rabbiting pace it raced at.

He'd begun crying, begging to a god that didn't exist as laughter finally broke from Mephisto, his body grown disjointed, many-limbed, shadowed and gaunt and terrible. Angel clung to him because he couldn't cling to Lucifer and didn't want to look at the wrong thing Amaimon was.

"Please, I'll be good, I'll be good," he cried. It was to himself. It was to god, it was to Jeremiah and Hilkiah, and it was to the uncaring creatures drinking in his tears and pain like they couldn't get enough and wanted to devour him to his bones. Until he was nothing but scraps of meat for Amaimon to pick through in the dirt at their feet.

He was nothing. He'd never been anything real. An experiment, a sacrifice, something to be fed to beasts as a way to satiate them for a moment. To give another time to flee. An offering.

Something pressed up inside him–several somethings. His frazzled mind couldn't hold a clear picture together. It hurt and he knew there wouldn't be an escape, not for him.

Not for him.

Growls and whines built in his ears. Amaimon moved wrong and Mephisto lashed out with an open-palmed slash of claws that parted his cheeks and splashed hot blood to Angel's trembling body.

Lucifer laved an even hotter tongue to Angel's shoulder, taking a slow path along his throat that pounded with his pulse until it met Mephisto's and wound together by Angel's gaping mouth.

Mephisto bit the tongue in his mouth off while Lucifer released a soft snarl to the grinning mask full of fangs at his reaction.

Why? The question pressed more tears from Angel, body twitching beyond his control and no longer able to struggle.

Why why whywhywhy?

His head fell forward and he saw the way his clothes had been torn from his body. He saw the way the suggestions of limbs wrapped and pulled at his skin, like they'd take him apart piece by piece in their efforts to steal him from the other grasping claws.

When black tendrils wound like ice to his legs and up further to tease at his length in a mockery of gentleness, of affection, Angel gave up, gave in, and released the last of his resistance just as a figure shoved open the door to the room.

A shroud fell over Angel's eyes and his mind had been shoved into the back seat, but he'd had enough awareness left to recognize the intruder.

Lightning.

He went under completely and hoped his clever friend escaped.

---

"Hey," Lewin said over the dread in his heart.

"Give him back." Simple, easy-to-understand words. Those worked best on demons that had gone past the stage of listening.

"Let him go." Let Angel go, he requested in a low cadence, keeping his pulse steady and body relaxed, open, but not vulnerable. Confident.

Three pairs of glowing, slit-pupiled eyes peered back at him as if wondering what had decided to interrupt their game.

A fourth pair stared up from the floor, milky with death and rapid rot spreading throughout.

Lucifer had given up his vessel for greener pastures.

He'd taken Angel.

There were many things Lewin was, but while he'd never shared much in common with the rest of humanity, he shared many things in common with demons.

Chief amongst those things was a possessiveness over the few people he considered his.

And Angel was his buddy. Someone who couldn't tell when Lewin teased him but trusted him to have his back. The one Lewin protected from more subtle threats while Angel went on inspiring the rest of the Order with his light, and the one he'd failed because he hadn't seen just how tightly Mephisto had slipped the threads of his noose around Angel.

"He smells, Samael," a childish voice like gravel crept cruelly over the distance. It didn't come from any vocal cords, only faceted stone that had taken over the flesh and blood of the earth king's vessel.

"Clever boy," Samael said from a pale, bloodless face over writhing shadows. It didn't sound like a compliment.

"Another part of your game, Samael?" Lucifer cocked his head. Angel's head. "He's not going insane, is this your protection or-ah, I see."

"You belong to Azazel." Demons always thought in terms of possession.

"Yeah," Lewin said. "Gramps likes me. He thinks I'm cute."

The blessings of the king of spirits could enable a human to resist the maddening effects of Gehenna for a time. Not long. But enough. It had to be enough.

"Sir Pheles," Lewin pressed on, calling to the mask he knew best, "I'm not sure what your end game is, but I just gotta check first. You're still on humanity's side?"

It all hinged on if Samael was true to his stated goals. The ones he'd professed during the interrogation of Shima Renzo and maintained throughout the history of the Order.

To not live like a worm beneath others, and to enjoy the chaos of Assiah and the things humans created.

If those things remained true, then Lewin could still bargain with the being known as the concept of space and time.

Strands of inhumanely colored hair slipped across Samael's forehead as he bowed his head. Blood had smeared over his lips, the only other spot of color on him besides his gleaming eyes.

"Of course, Mr. Lewin," he purred through serrated fangs.

Good. Lewin didn't sigh in relief. He was nowhere near out of the woodworks yet.

"Ok," he licked his lips, letting them crack in a smile, "then I won't tell Lucifer here what that little upcoming plan you've got in store is if you give Angel back to me and we can all forget this happened."

Not that he didn't see the shit show Angel's condition was going to stir up in the Order coming but none of that mattered if he was alive.

None of it mattered.

A frown tugged Samael's lips comically down, not truly threatened, so Lewin added, "I've got it all set to send to him if I don't use the check-in code in a set amount of time."

His gambit with Yukio Okumura was something he knew Samael had to be aware of, and given the interest the Illuminati had with the younger Satan-spawn, Lewin wondered just how obsessed Lucifer was.

Which meant if Samael wanted his game to continue on track, he would have to forgo whichever one he'd started with Angel and prioritize the one with his overall vested interest.

"Ah, so that's your bargain," Samael said, eyelids shuttering. "It appears you've been a busy bee, to have gotten that far in your investigations."

Despite the conversation involving him in part, Lucifer seemed content to let Samael deal with Lewin, watching from green eyes. The color had replaced the clear blue of Angel's.

At Lucifer's side and looking bored, if any emotion could be attributed to the reptilian gaze pinned to his jugular, Amaimon licked the blood from between his fangs. His claws lengthened and retracted cat-like from his fingers. Lewin didn't let himself pay attention to the display, keeping his gaze to somewhere around Samael's chin so their eyes wouldn't meet directly.

Was his bargain enough? Would Samael somehow be able to expel Lucifer from Angel? Did he want to?

Lewin opened his mouth to speak again when he glanced down and noticed a shadow slipped innocently around his legs.

Shit!

The shadows snapped up and ensnared his wrists, tugging him to kneel on the floor, hands bound in front as his body ached at the impact to the hard metal.

"You should enjoy your new vessel, dear Lucifer," Samael said as he brushed their cheeks together, smearing blood further to their skin.

"Being on Assiah has made you strange, Samael," Lucifer responded, though he accepted the touch and the proposition.

He came forward, Amaimon and Samael trailing in his wake, to reach a hand to Lewin's hair. A flick of his wrist removed the hat he wore, fingers parting the mussed bangs aside until Lewin was left without any barrier to Lucifer's gaze.

Azazel's blessing wouldn't hold up much longer. It wouldn't hold up at all if the demons in front of him decided to really tear at it. Demons always took things like that as a challenge.

"Azazel is cruel to do this to you," Lucifer said as he trailed his fingers down to tilt Lewin's head up. His other hand went to the back of his head.

"This false hope you have has only prolonged the inevitable." Lewin thought he might have been talking about more than the current situation.

"That's the thing about humans," Lewin said, unable to move except to twitch in Lucifer's hold as he neared until the head of his length pressed at Lewin's lips.

"Hope's the only thing keeping us going, in the end."

He couldn't say anything else, jaw dropping to accept the heavy intrusion that Lucifer slid in with a hum of contentment.

The expression on the face staring down at him was far from Angel's, a cool detachment he never wore even when cutting through demons he saw as being his righteous duty. But Lewin searched deeper for the human beneath the demon, a hint of blue in the irises, anything to tell him Angel still existed.

His distraction cost him and Lewin choked when Lucifer's pace went from the testing thrusts to something Lewin could only just keep relaxed enough to take.

Saliva spread over his lips and his jaw already ached. The shadows keeping him against the floor squeezed too tightly, and Lewin had begun to lose sensation in his hands and feet.

And despite everything, his pulse picked up.

A tail swept at Lucifer's feet, soft blonde fur curling from the end much the same as Rin Okumura's own tail did. The part of Lewin that loved demons wanted to examine it closer, see if he could tug on it like the proverbial tiger's tail to study the reactions such an action would bring.

That part of Lewin watched everything and had him clenching his thighs together while his body twitched at being so near to three of the most fascinating creatures in existence.

Behind Lucifer, Amaimon watched, gold eyes gleaming with interest, as if, if Lucifer gave the slightest indication he was distracted, he would pounce on Lewin.

The reptilian tail flicking in irregular patterns began to blur as unbidden tears filled Lewin's vision. Slowly, the blessing on Lewin unraveled, threadbare as Gehenna pulsed around him in maddening spirals. No amount of fascination in the world would change that he was only human and one wrong move from Lucifer could take his head from his body as easily as he'd removed his hat.

Already, his throat had gone raw, cheeks flushed and bruises forming with each impact, Lewin nearly seeing stars as Lucifer came dangerously close to hitting his nose too hard. Any harder and it would break.

'Come on, buddy, wake up in there.'

There was only one way to expel a demon who didn't want to give up a vessel and who was too strong for a traditional exorcism.

All the Arc Knights knew it, knew their last ditch effort to take so that they wouldn't be at the mercy of a demon.

He just had to wake Angel up. Bring him back.

Hot release took him by surprise and Lewin moaned in shock before gagging and forcing himself to swallow while Lucifer shuddered with a soft hiss over him, claws digging welts into the back of his head.

The pain seared through Lewin, a black corruption spreading from every small wound to leave him overheated and feverish. His body tensed, flexing under the restraints as if he could break them if he struggled enough.

Instead, Lucifer pushed him to the ground, legs shivering in the after-effects of his release and pupils dilated so that only a thin line of green showed from his irises as he bore down on Lewin.

A hand kept him in place alongside the shadows, clenching at his collar with bruising pressure he knew was nowhere near what Lucifer was capable of. The other hand tore at his pants until Lewin was bared, grasping at his length and running over it in steady motions.

"Curious," Lucifer said while Lewin shuddered and hissed at the friction. "You're already hard, reacting, to this."

He glanced at Samael with a cocked brow, then back at Lewin. "I thought this vessel was a companion of yours? You've risked everything for it. I don't understand."

"Humans never make sense," Amaimon muttered, making Lewin huff a laugh and smile tightly.

"I've never made sense even to other humans, sorry," he gasped, head knocking to the ground as Lucifer began to sink onto him inch by inch. "And-ah Angel knows better than anyone I've got my quirks."

Lewin would have all the time in the world to apologize to Angel. Even if he never forgave him. Even if he never spoke to him again, it was better that he lived than became the thing he hated most in the world.

His breath left him in a whoosh as Lucifer bottomed out, chest arching and hips bucking beneath him to no avail. Lucifer just began lifting himself along Lewin, the dim lights of the room haloing him and only making it harder for Lewin's failing senses to differentiate him from Angel.

Things were beginning to go hazy around the edges, pleasure joining the alarm bells telling him he couldn't last much longer before his body gave out.

"Angel," he whispered, hoarse and throat seizing up on a choke.

At the call of the name, Lucifer frowned again and reached with his hand to grip Lewin's throat, claw pressed dangerously to the artery there as sweat beaded down the reddening skin.

"Are you still calling to that human? He can't do anything as he is. Weak. A doll for others' whims. My vessel and nothing more."

He began to squeeze.

"Nng!" Lewin gagged, breath cutting off and body jostled by Lucifer's increasing pace over him, hips impacting and sending him crying soundlessly.

"This hope you have is an illusion," Lucifer said. A flush stained his cheeks, voice melting in Lewin's ears that had begun to ring along with his thundering pulse.

His hands shoved at the wrist locked in place over him and it took Lewin a moment to understand what was happening, thoughts spiralling as all his options narrowed to one last chance. He'd been freed from the shadows.

Lewin reached and saw through the tears staining his vision as his hand settled to Lucifer's cheek, getting a slide of slivering pupils at his move as his other hand went to the one choking the life from his body.

The grip loosened, Lucifer pausing his rocking hips and cocking his head into Lewin's palm. He looked like Angel in that moment, hair slipping like a golden waterfall over his shoulders as Lewin spoke.

"It's-it's okay, buddy, it's not your fault."

Whatever happened there that night, Angel had to know it wasn't his fault.

"None of this is your fault."

A spasm in the hand around his throat sent Lewin scrabbling, an animalistic instinct making him fight for every second of life he could win back from the encroaching darkness.

Green from Lucifer's eyes slowly eclipsed every other light in the room until it was all he could see. A few more endless moments and even that light began to fade.

This was it, the thought came from the back of his mind amidst the whirling sensations pounding in his brain. He'd failed.

Except…

Where green had been, Lewin saw a flash of blue.

He gasped a ragged, breathless heave of his lungs as Lucifer's hand left his throat and tore at his chest instead. His chest where Lewin kept his exorcist pin in the folds of his scarf to pin it in place.

High-pitched keening left Lucifer's gaping mouth, above which Lewin saw more blue searing down into his gaze.

Angel had taken control.

The pin ripped free in a jerk of movement and headed straight into Angel's throat, tearing over his jugular and sending a spray of hot blood to coat Lewin before he could react.

"No–" Lucifer's hiss cut off, fury making his face inhuman, twisted beneath the flares his eyes had become as he snarled and left the dying body before it could force him back to Gehenna as a mindless ego.

Without Lucifer holding his body, Angel toppled to the side, gasping wetly around the blood filling his lungs as he lay in the spreading pool.

Lewin rolled to his knees, swaying at the agony lancing in every inch of his body after the assault he'd just undergone but fumbling to Angel's side and digging into one of his many pockets for what he'd brought.

A small crystal, barely more than a sliver glinted between his rough fingertips as Lewin pressed it to Angel's throat and ignored the hot blood seeping over his skin. He activated it, fighting the weakness in his body telling him to collapse as he used every ounce of energy the piece of Shemihaza contained to seal up the mortal wound Angel had given himself to escape Lucifer.

Shallow breaths left Angel's mouth when the light faded. But he still breathed.

He still breathed.

His eyes fought to close before Lewin forced them open and grabbed the hat Lucifer had taken off him to set it back on his head. He peered between his bangs that had become tacky with blood and other fluids as he gasped raggedly up at where Samael still watched with an impassive expression.

"Well?" Lewin said. "Do we have a deal?"

Would he uphold the rest of their bargain? It had seemed like it when he'd noticed the shadows gone from his limbs, but he could have read Samael's intentions wrong and until he made it through the doors back to relative safety, then he wouldn't make any assumptions.

Movement had Lewin stilling, gaze snapping to see Amaimon shifting as if to make his way toward his crouched position.

Lewin prepared himself, though he knew even a tarnished king like Amaimon wouldn't have a problem ripping him apart as he was, Azazel's blessing long gone and the corruption in his veins making even staying awake difficult.

'Can't sleep yet.' Lewin's mind raced as Amaimon took a step, serpentine gaze and claws clicking over the metal floor sending his hindbrain screaming at the danger even as Lewin wanted to get a closer look at the fascinating scaled patterns running up his limbs.

If he survived, Lewin thought somewhat deliriously, he might track Amaimon down in the Academy halls where he had popped up some odd weeks back–on Samael's behest, he had concluded.

If he survived.

"Amaimon," the word from Samael stopped Amaimon in his tracks.

"We'll let Mr. Lewin take his prize home," Samael said while Lewin nearly swayed where he crouched with his relief.

A hand waved to the door Lewin had come through, fingers no longer tipped by black claws. Lewin noticed the shadows had lessened in the gloom, more of the red light penetrating the depths. The bloodless face Samael had worn earlier had become the mask Lewin was more familiar with.

He nodded and forced the remains of his energy into his body, quaking with the effort it took to drag Angel–who was much taller and broader than Lewin–up and towards the door.

His hands trembled before he got control of them, feeling twin gazes pierce into him as he managed to get one of Samael's keys into the lock and the door open.

Finally, he stepped through, the last gleam of slit pupils in glowing irises swallowed by the abyss.

Lewin appeared in the quiet halls of the Academy. He limped to his office, glad he'd been deposited nearby, and fell against the door before he could get it open and then again nearly falling to the floor.

Blackness stole over his vision and when it faded back into color, Lewin corrected himself.

"Ah," his breath rattled past bruised lips, feeling where they'd split at the corners crack and renew their bleeding. "Guess I tripped."

At least he hadn't dropped Angel on any of the various papers and food wrappers he'd left in his haste to track him down.

Lewin blinked, wondering if he was seeing things and if the corruption hadn't fully spread through his body already.

In his arms, Angel had opened his eyes.

"H-hey," he mumbled, palm falling to Angel's cheek and leaving a ruddy smear across it that Lewin ignored as he searched for a sign that Angel registered his voice or touch or anything at all.

But, despite jostling him and more calls of his name, Angel never changed his expression, eyes half-lidded and face slack.

He could have been a doll, the lifeless husk Lucifer had deemed him earlier.

Empty.

---

"I don't understand."

Samael hummed at the statement from Amaimon.

He inhaled, savoring the scents that filled the room and coated the inside of his mouth.

Fear was the strongest, Angel's desperate struggles and cries a sweet flavor on his tongue. He'd performed his role beautifully, a tragic victim to the higher powers using him in their games.

And how Samael had enjoyed his game. The timeline would have a few hiccups due to Lewin's interruption, but it was so far along that, in the grand scheme of things, those hiccups would smooth over soon enough. There wouldn't be time for worrying about him when Satan and Lucifer were on the cusp of beginning their war.

Behind the fear scent came lust, blood, a mixture of himself, along with Lucifer and Amaimon. He smiled as he remembered biting through Lucifer's tongue to see the irritation in his eyes.

Such a minor wound, but it, coupled with the way Angel had looked and reacted leading up to his possession, had given Samael exactly what he'd been after. It scratched the maddening itch keeping Samael from being able to focus on his goals without distraction.

"And you never will, my simple brother," he finally answered Amaimon.

Samael wrapped the cloak of Mephisto around him again and took them from the space to his manor, though not before snapping to let the facility and unfinished Gehenna Gate fall into rust behind him, time wearing it to ruin.

"Can we still play?" Amaimon clearly hadn't had enough, the insatiable brat.

"Of course, Amaimon."

He was in a giving mood, after all.

---

End notes: Does this count as dead dove do not eat?

(I'm cackling picturing the Order trying to put Mephisto on trial again. Who's gonna be there to chop his foot off now? XD).

I swear imma get back to writing Incandescence now :`)