FanFic of the movie "The Prophecy". Some direct quotes from the film. Please please review! :)
"Oh Gabriel. When did you lose your grace?"
- The Prophecy
**
Gabriel rubbed his knuckles, sending off flakes of dead skin. He was experiencing the one thing which, in his millennia of existence, still had the power to frighten him.
He always knew his purpose - for so long it had been what he was told it was, and then; when he didn't get enough gratification that way, it became what he himself decided. Gabriel always had a plan: his needs were so simple, but the universe, other angels and God himself always seemed to collide to stop him reaching it. It frustrated and boggled him. He cracked his knuckles and sighed scornfully, with what a 'talking-monkey' would have called despair. But Gabriel was not that weak, he would impale and offer himself up to Michael on a plate before he allowed himself to 'feel' like talking-monkeys did. Next to him, Jerry winced as the Archangel cracked his knuckles again. Gabriel ignored him as always, rubbing his dry hands over each other thoughtfully, and spoke:
"Jerry. What is this, uh? I'm falling apart - you'd mistake me for you. I need you to do a job, Jerry. I'm going to need all your talking-monkey intelligence on this one."
He explained what he wanted, interrupted momentarily as Jerry choked up a heap of blood-coloured bile. Gabriel waited impatiently as Jerry wiped a filthy hand across his mouth, and continued.
"So. You pretend you're some young twit concerned about your precious health. You explain the symptoms, then you take the treatment: the salve or whatever he gives you, and bring it back to me so I can use it."
Jerry listened incredulously, his throat burning.
"Gabe," he said. "You don't need to go to a doctor for dry hands. You can get cream from a chemist. A supermarket even. It's called moisturizer." He coughed. "Margo used to use it all the time." He fell silent, remembering her fresh smell and soft hands. Then he thought that he would maybe like to go to a doctor, how nice that would be. Gabriel had never let him go to a doctor before.
"Yeah, yeah?" Gabriel said, already losing interest. "Well, you go do that then. Here's some cash. Get cracking."
When Jerry returned with the small round bottle, Gabriel took it and held it up in mock wonderment: "Wow, hey? See, this is what I need you for. This is talking-monkey stuff."
Gabriel smoothed moisturizer lovingly over his white hands; up his fingers and over his fingernails, enjoying the sensation. The arch-angel wiggled his fingers with reverence.
"You're hopeless," muttered Jerry, and then coughed and tripped over his sneakers.
Gabriel sneered.
*
His cheek against the dusty floorboards, Simon's heartbeat thudded slowly in his chest. He could practically see the red, ragged pulse before his eyes, and feel it in his throbbing head. His hands were wet from the blood beneath his coat, they felt chill against the air of the dim classroom. But the rest of his body was burning. He shifted his hip torturously, and cursed mortality.
Simon knew he was loved. But this was a rare occasion when he didn't feel it. "Concentrate," he thought gently to himself . "This is important.."
God in his all encompassing holiness. His love which could pierce darkness and despair, who could carry Simon's pain in his own heart, and hold him in safety and perfect love, for as long as he needed. He who knew all Simon would ever do, who knew all the times he would err, and understood and forgave and lifted him up in his arms anyway. Who would tell him everything and give him all the answers he needed.
"Oh yes, Lord…." murmured Simon.
*
Gabriel thudded up the stairs. He slapped his hands against the wall, and snapped his fingers edgily for Jerry to hurry. His mortal skin was feeling tight and constricted, particularly around his heart. He didn't know what it meant, but he didn't like it.
"Argh." He lashed out his hand at a display of kid's artworks, ripping a deep gash through the painted paper and sending them fluttering to the floor.
Upturned chairs and tables made dark, looming shapes in the dim classroom. Dust hung shimmering and filthy in the air. Gabriel's boots clicked across the dusty floor as he entered the classroom. He was hesitant, but convinced himself it was just a hunter's caution.
And then he saw it.
Crumpled, crunched up on the floor. A sickly ray of light struggled through the battered window above it, falling on it's shoulder and the curve of it's neck. The face was in shadow.
Gabriel waited patiently until the figure stirred and looked up to see him crouching; calmly and malevolently, on a desk above.
"Hi Simon."
"Hi, Gabriel," the creature almost sighed; soft, matted hair falling across his cheek as he tilted his head serenely.
Suddenly he bolted, wildly stumbling to his feet - and crashed to the ground as something tripped him. He looked up and saw a scraggly-looking human. The human sniffed, and said, "Sorry, man... you know...," and gestured toward Gabriel.
"All too well," thought Simon, laying still. Gabriel had once had beauty to rival Lucifer himself. But unlike God's favourite, Gabriel had never had that grace and innocence, and his charisma had long ago withered beneath spite and cruelty.
"Long time." said Gabriel pleasantly.
Simon almost chuckled, and said nothing. He could feel his lips trembling, and pressed his hand to them weakly.
Gabriel watched the crumpled angel on the floor. He was impossibly fair and innocent-looking, with red, wavy hair, and delicate, pointed features. And pale skin, lightly dusted with freckles. Freckles! Gabriel smiled. He could see why a pet had been made of this one - he was so warm. He was like sunlight, which Gabriel usually hated, but Simon made him remember back to when he hadn't. Simon in mortal form made Gabriel forget he hated mortality, in all it's guises.
"You know why I'm here."
Simon inclined his head.
"I don't suppose you have it on you?... No. That would be too easy."
Gabriel uncurled languidly like a cat, then leapt and grabbed Simon by the coat, slamming him against an upturned desk on the floor.
Simon choked in pain. The rip in his chest was a simple, constant agony now. His eyes fluttered shut. He could not deal with Gabriel's brash arrogance right now.
Gabriel stroked the lapels of Simons coat thoughtfully. Simon's chin tilted back weakly. He gazed at Gabriel with big blue eyes. Instead of being clear they were watery and blurred in pain. Simon's eyes lowered and Gabriel saw a tear was caught on the tangled, sandy lashes. His tongue darted out like a snake's and snatched it up possessively. He put a kiss on each of Simon's closed eye-lids: a benediction. He could hear and feel Simon's breath against his face; it was slow and unsteady. Gabriel pulled back.
"The soul, Simon, where's the soul - you know?" he hissed.
***
Jerry was bored and itchy. The angels were still bickering. Hey, who needed Margo in his life when he had *angels*?!
"But the Word...." Simon was saying.
"No one hears the Word, anymore. No *ONE*!" Gabriel slashed his finger through the air. He was pacing up and down before the angel on the floor.
"But without the Word-"
"-There's only the argument." Gabriel raised his hands palm up. "I will not step aside. I will NOT *ALLOW* any *talking monkey* to take my place!"
"I am so tired of this war."
"Then join us. Reject the lie, Simon, join *us*." Gabriel crouched before him. The Archangel's hands moved excitedly before Simon's face, desperate to convey his meaning, almost but not quite cupping Simon's face. He gestured reverently, crisp cuff sleeves brushing Simon's cheek: voice hushed and trembling. "Do you remember? We stood together. We threw their rebel thrones from the *walls*!"
"We wanted to be gods," said Simon dully.
"I don't want to be a god, Simon." said Gabriel, reasonably. "I just want to make it like it was. Before the *monkeys*. Do you remember? He loved us best."
Simon reached out trembling fingers and touched Gabriel's cheek. Gabriel clutched his hand and kissed it passionately.
"I'd like to help you, old friend," Simon said gently. "But I can't. I don't know..who's right, who's wrong. But it doesn't matter. Sometimes, you've just got to do what you're told. That's what we *are*." For the first time there was a gleam in his eyes.
Gabriel sat back, and sighed.
"You know," He tilted his head slightly, greasy hair fell across his cheek. "The good thing about a conversation like this is - you never have to have it again."
He leaned forward, till their noses touched and they were breathing each other's breath. He brushed his lips chastely against Simon's. Simon closed his eyes.
Gabriel was making a strange mewling noise in his throat. Simon listened dimly, not surprised as Gabriel's hands stroked his hair and touched his face. Gabriel pulled him forward, and Simon fell against his chest, long legs lanky and bent like a baby animal. Gabriel held him against him, growling and nuzzling his face into the soft hair. Simon breathed softly against Gabriel's white shirt, dimly aware of the comfort of being encircled by angelic arms. He waited for the flames.
"Oh Gabriel. When did you lose your grace?"
- The Prophecy
**
Gabriel rubbed his knuckles, sending off flakes of dead skin. He was experiencing the one thing which, in his millennia of existence, still had the power to frighten him.
He always knew his purpose - for so long it had been what he was told it was, and then; when he didn't get enough gratification that way, it became what he himself decided. Gabriel always had a plan: his needs were so simple, but the universe, other angels and God himself always seemed to collide to stop him reaching it. It frustrated and boggled him. He cracked his knuckles and sighed scornfully, with what a 'talking-monkey' would have called despair. But Gabriel was not that weak, he would impale and offer himself up to Michael on a plate before he allowed himself to 'feel' like talking-monkeys did. Next to him, Jerry winced as the Archangel cracked his knuckles again. Gabriel ignored him as always, rubbing his dry hands over each other thoughtfully, and spoke:
"Jerry. What is this, uh? I'm falling apart - you'd mistake me for you. I need you to do a job, Jerry. I'm going to need all your talking-monkey intelligence on this one."
He explained what he wanted, interrupted momentarily as Jerry choked up a heap of blood-coloured bile. Gabriel waited impatiently as Jerry wiped a filthy hand across his mouth, and continued.
"So. You pretend you're some young twit concerned about your precious health. You explain the symptoms, then you take the treatment: the salve or whatever he gives you, and bring it back to me so I can use it."
Jerry listened incredulously, his throat burning.
"Gabe," he said. "You don't need to go to a doctor for dry hands. You can get cream from a chemist. A supermarket even. It's called moisturizer." He coughed. "Margo used to use it all the time." He fell silent, remembering her fresh smell and soft hands. Then he thought that he would maybe like to go to a doctor, how nice that would be. Gabriel had never let him go to a doctor before.
"Yeah, yeah?" Gabriel said, already losing interest. "Well, you go do that then. Here's some cash. Get cracking."
When Jerry returned with the small round bottle, Gabriel took it and held it up in mock wonderment: "Wow, hey? See, this is what I need you for. This is talking-monkey stuff."
Gabriel smoothed moisturizer lovingly over his white hands; up his fingers and over his fingernails, enjoying the sensation. The arch-angel wiggled his fingers with reverence.
"You're hopeless," muttered Jerry, and then coughed and tripped over his sneakers.
Gabriel sneered.
*
His cheek against the dusty floorboards, Simon's heartbeat thudded slowly in his chest. He could practically see the red, ragged pulse before his eyes, and feel it in his throbbing head. His hands were wet from the blood beneath his coat, they felt chill against the air of the dim classroom. But the rest of his body was burning. He shifted his hip torturously, and cursed mortality.
Simon knew he was loved. But this was a rare occasion when he didn't feel it. "Concentrate," he thought gently to himself . "This is important.."
God in his all encompassing holiness. His love which could pierce darkness and despair, who could carry Simon's pain in his own heart, and hold him in safety and perfect love, for as long as he needed. He who knew all Simon would ever do, who knew all the times he would err, and understood and forgave and lifted him up in his arms anyway. Who would tell him everything and give him all the answers he needed.
"Oh yes, Lord…." murmured Simon.
*
Gabriel thudded up the stairs. He slapped his hands against the wall, and snapped his fingers edgily for Jerry to hurry. His mortal skin was feeling tight and constricted, particularly around his heart. He didn't know what it meant, but he didn't like it.
"Argh." He lashed out his hand at a display of kid's artworks, ripping a deep gash through the painted paper and sending them fluttering to the floor.
Upturned chairs and tables made dark, looming shapes in the dim classroom. Dust hung shimmering and filthy in the air. Gabriel's boots clicked across the dusty floor as he entered the classroom. He was hesitant, but convinced himself it was just a hunter's caution.
And then he saw it.
Crumpled, crunched up on the floor. A sickly ray of light struggled through the battered window above it, falling on it's shoulder and the curve of it's neck. The face was in shadow.
Gabriel waited patiently until the figure stirred and looked up to see him crouching; calmly and malevolently, on a desk above.
"Hi Simon."
"Hi, Gabriel," the creature almost sighed; soft, matted hair falling across his cheek as he tilted his head serenely.
Suddenly he bolted, wildly stumbling to his feet - and crashed to the ground as something tripped him. He looked up and saw a scraggly-looking human. The human sniffed, and said, "Sorry, man... you know...," and gestured toward Gabriel.
"All too well," thought Simon, laying still. Gabriel had once had beauty to rival Lucifer himself. But unlike God's favourite, Gabriel had never had that grace and innocence, and his charisma had long ago withered beneath spite and cruelty.
"Long time." said Gabriel pleasantly.
Simon almost chuckled, and said nothing. He could feel his lips trembling, and pressed his hand to them weakly.
Gabriel watched the crumpled angel on the floor. He was impossibly fair and innocent-looking, with red, wavy hair, and delicate, pointed features. And pale skin, lightly dusted with freckles. Freckles! Gabriel smiled. He could see why a pet had been made of this one - he was so warm. He was like sunlight, which Gabriel usually hated, but Simon made him remember back to when he hadn't. Simon in mortal form made Gabriel forget he hated mortality, in all it's guises.
"You know why I'm here."
Simon inclined his head.
"I don't suppose you have it on you?... No. That would be too easy."
Gabriel uncurled languidly like a cat, then leapt and grabbed Simon by the coat, slamming him against an upturned desk on the floor.
Simon choked in pain. The rip in his chest was a simple, constant agony now. His eyes fluttered shut. He could not deal with Gabriel's brash arrogance right now.
Gabriel stroked the lapels of Simons coat thoughtfully. Simon's chin tilted back weakly. He gazed at Gabriel with big blue eyes. Instead of being clear they were watery and blurred in pain. Simon's eyes lowered and Gabriel saw a tear was caught on the tangled, sandy lashes. His tongue darted out like a snake's and snatched it up possessively. He put a kiss on each of Simon's closed eye-lids: a benediction. He could hear and feel Simon's breath against his face; it was slow and unsteady. Gabriel pulled back.
"The soul, Simon, where's the soul - you know?" he hissed.
***
Jerry was bored and itchy. The angels were still bickering. Hey, who needed Margo in his life when he had *angels*?!
"But the Word...." Simon was saying.
"No one hears the Word, anymore. No *ONE*!" Gabriel slashed his finger through the air. He was pacing up and down before the angel on the floor.
"But without the Word-"
"-There's only the argument." Gabriel raised his hands palm up. "I will not step aside. I will NOT *ALLOW* any *talking monkey* to take my place!"
"I am so tired of this war."
"Then join us. Reject the lie, Simon, join *us*." Gabriel crouched before him. The Archangel's hands moved excitedly before Simon's face, desperate to convey his meaning, almost but not quite cupping Simon's face. He gestured reverently, crisp cuff sleeves brushing Simon's cheek: voice hushed and trembling. "Do you remember? We stood together. We threw their rebel thrones from the *walls*!"
"We wanted to be gods," said Simon dully.
"I don't want to be a god, Simon." said Gabriel, reasonably. "I just want to make it like it was. Before the *monkeys*. Do you remember? He loved us best."
Simon reached out trembling fingers and touched Gabriel's cheek. Gabriel clutched his hand and kissed it passionately.
"I'd like to help you, old friend," Simon said gently. "But I can't. I don't know..who's right, who's wrong. But it doesn't matter. Sometimes, you've just got to do what you're told. That's what we *are*." For the first time there was a gleam in his eyes.
Gabriel sat back, and sighed.
"You know," He tilted his head slightly, greasy hair fell across his cheek. "The good thing about a conversation like this is - you never have to have it again."
He leaned forward, till their noses touched and they were breathing each other's breath. He brushed his lips chastely against Simon's. Simon closed his eyes.
Gabriel was making a strange mewling noise in his throat. Simon listened dimly, not surprised as Gabriel's hands stroked his hair and touched his face. Gabriel pulled him forward, and Simon fell against his chest, long legs lanky and bent like a baby animal. Gabriel held him against him, growling and nuzzling his face into the soft hair. Simon breathed softly against Gabriel's white shirt, dimly aware of the comfort of being encircled by angelic arms. He waited for the flames.