Flying felt good. It felt good to be able to stretch his wings out and just sail through the air currents, with the wind in his face and his angelic body comfortable around him.
Of course, it might have felt a lot better if he weren't on his way to save the Antichrist, a witch, a witchfinder, and three teenagers.
But it still felt good to fly.
"Damien! Stop tormenting Sarelil!"
Even with THAT happening every few minutes.
Crowley dove down next to him, wings brushing his. When the demon smiled at him, he had fangs. Bloody great fangs. But that was natural, as he was in his demonic form. "Ain't that beautiful?" he hissed.
"Argh!" said Loki.
Aziraphale politely hid a smile.
"DAMIEN!"
Crowley dissolved into laughter, nearly falling out of the air.
"HEY! Watch where you're waving that thing, kid!"
"SARELIL!"
"Get back, pain in my ass!"
"ARG!"
1111
Needless to say, the Antichrist wasn't hard to find, not when you had two demons with you. Especially since one was Hell's version of the radar.
Neatly, five supernatural beings tucked in their wings and dove. They landed neatly and looked around.
"Nice little neighborhood," Loki said drily.
Damien resumed his human form. He was, as usual, quite young, and rather demonic looking, and dressed like a cross between a punk and a gang member. He wore ridiculously expensive sunglasses, a long black trenchcoat, baggy black jeans, and a T-shirt that said 'One by One, the Penguins Steal my Sanity.' Loki took one look at this and dissolved laughing.
"Love the shirt," she managed finally.
"WHAT sanity?" Sarelil asked nastily.
Crowley's eyes rolled. He resumed his own favorite form easily, straightened his shades, and looked at the rest of them.
He had to admit one thing. The shades came in handy when you were sorrounded by angels. The halos were blinding. And his suit WAS stylish. And black, of course. And would have cost a small fortune, had he bought it. He gestured at the angels. "Are you going to run around like that all day? You'll petrify the locals?"
With a shrug, Sarelil took on a human form. It was exactly what Crowley would have expected. Young, fresh-scrubbed, and slightly geeky.He had glasses. Like Aziraphale wore, only slightly more stylish instead of the kind Ben Franklin would have worn. He wore blue jeans and a football jersey. He looked very American.
Aziraphale looked as he always did, tweedy and angelic. With his little Ben-Franklin-style specs. And Loki was young, angelically beautiful, and wearing a long white coat. She managed to look excessively angelic even in human form. The only thing that ruined the image were the giggles every time she looked at Damien.
The shirt amused her.
Behind them, a throat cleared. Five supernatural beings whirled around, hands going to sword hilts, hidden as they were.
Standing there was the Antichrist.
This is not to say he was frightening. Quite the opposite. He appeared to be an average, healthy, reasonably attractive sixteen-year-old boy. He had curly, golden hair, constantly falling into big blue eyes. He appeared very harmless.
Loki and Sarelil tensed even more. Crowley and Aziraphale did not relax, although they didn't tense any more, either. Damien, on the other hand, took his hand away from the hilt of his sword and managed a smile. "Hello, Adam."
The Antichrist smiled at him, the genuinely happy smile of someone seeing an old friend for the first time in ages. "Hallo, Damien. It's been a long time."
Damien nodded. "You grew."
Adam shrugged. "I'm mortal."
"So I heard."
Adam paused, looking unsure for probably the first time in his life. "Is, you know, is he...angry?"
Damien shrugged. "Hard to tell. He doesn't talk about it much." The Prince's head tilted. "But then, that's the way you engineered it."
Adam looked a little sheepish and shrugged. "Didn't really mean to. Just kinda happened that way when I put everything back together. Everythin' kinda changed, but stayed the same, y'know?" He nodded at Crowley and Aziraphale. "Like them."
"Huh?" said Crowley.
"I beg your pardon?" said Aziraphale.
Adam just smiled slightly, then turned to Loki. "Yer Loki, right? We have somebody here who I think you want to see." He turned and led away. Obviously expecting them to follow.
They exchanged glances, but what else could they do?
They followed.
1111
There was a wounded angel in Adam's bedroom.
That was, without saying, the last thing they had expected.
Loki let out a shocked little gasp. "Michael!"
Sarelil looked shocked, then amused as Loki rushed to his side and started unbuttoning his shirt. Aziraphale politely averted his eyes. Crowley smirked. Damien tugged off his sunglasses and gave them a mock-disapproving look. "Really, kids, is this really the time for that?"
Loki gave him a glare that would have melted both polar ice caps, with amps left over. Then her attention turned back to the angel on the bed. He was unconcious, and his hair was clotted with blood. He wasn't the usual angel, by an means. His hair was thick and black, a little long, but not like it was on purpose. More like he hadn't been paying attention enough to keep it from growing. Or, if he'd been human, like he hadn't had time to get a haircut. He was dressed in baggy blue jeans and a tight black shirt, and there was some sort of chain around his neck. Noteworthy simply because angels didn't usually wear jewelry.
Loki gently looked at his wounds, brushing back his shaggy hair with a tenderness that was almost frightening. Crowley raised his eyebrows. Some things angels just weren't allowed to do. One of them was to fall in love. They COULD love. In fact, they were created to. They were Created to Love everything and everyone, but God above all others. To fall in love would mean that God was no longer first in their hearts.
Angels had Fallen for that. It appeared that two more were fairly close to it.
Damien was looking at Loki with absolutely no expression. Michael let out a moan in his sleep and curled into her.
Damien shook his head and left the room. Loki didn't look up. "How was he wounded?"
"I think they were demons," Adam said. "They had black wings, at least. And black swords." He looked nervous. "I didn't think I could heal him. I mean, he's holy an' all, an' I Well, I'm really not. I thought it might hurt him."
Loki nodded. She placed her hand over the wound on his head. Her hand started to glow. Crowley and Adam winced, shielding their eyes. Aziraphale went to her side, lending an angelic hand in the healing process.
When Crowley was able to take his hands away from eyes, Loki had such a look of relief on her face that it was painful to see, even for a demon. Of course, love is usually painful for a demon. Explains why every time he was around Aziraphale, he got a raging headache. Of course, that could also have been the booze.
Michael cracked his eyes open slightly. He had angelic eyes, Crowley noted with distaste. You could always tell angels just by the color of their eyes. They were usually pastel, or glowy, or filled with the light of the stars, or some other cliche nonsense. He supposed that was why demons always had fiery eyes, red or orange or yellow. Sinister, like.
Michael's were a warm, sea green. When they turned on Loki, he managed a slight smile. "Hey, boss," he whispered, like everything hurt. "How's it going?"
Loki gently stroked back his hair, looking over where the wound had been. "What happened, Michael?"
He shifted, pushing himself into a sitting position. "They were demons," he said. "Nasty fuckers." He caught a glimpse of Crowley, and his eyes widened. "No offense, Crawly."
"Crowley."
"Right."
"Why?" Aziraphale asked.
Michael shrugged. "No offense to Cra Crowley, but do they really need a reason?"
"No," Crowley agreed, "but I guess they have one lately."
Michael frowned, his eyes turning back to Loki. "What's he talking about?"
As they fell deeper into conversation, both Crowley and Aziraphale noticed something. They kept inching apart, away from each other, and their language had taken on a distinctly formal air. Aziraphale looked confused. The last time he'd seen them, they'd been close. Good friends, always taking care of each other.
Now they were treating each other as strangers, nothing more than acquaintences who happened to have similiar occupations.
They came back to reality when Michael swore, rather profusely. Crowley's eyebrows nearly left his head. Adam looked impressed.
"Is that phys'cally poss'ble?" Adam asked Crowley quietly.
Crowley shrugged. "You wouldn't think so."
Michael snarled and rose to his feet. He was impressively tall, but most angels were. His hair hung in his eyes. He stumbled a little, straightened, and met Aziraphale's eyes. Crowley couldn't see them, but he knew the angel well enough to know what was in his eyes. Not pity, Aziraphale knew that Michael didn't deserve pity, but gentle understanding. After all, didn't Aziraphale tread as close to the edge?
Michael gave a small ironic smile. More self-mocking than anything else. He gestured for the door. "Shall we?"
Crowley swept one arm out. "After you."
Michael grabbed his coat from the end of the bed, and looked at Adam. "Thank you, Adam," he said softly. "You saved my life."
Adam shrugged. "I s'pose. It's just 'cause they can't touch me, y'see. I'm, well, y'know," he made a vague gesture downwards, "HIM."
Michael smiled at him and held out one hand. "Thank you."
Adam smiled shyly. "Yer welcome."
And the Son of Satan shook the hand of one of God's angels.
Crowley swore he felt the Earth move on it's axis. Aziraphale shot him a look. The angel's eyes were wide behind his specs.
Michael shrugged into his coat. "Well, guys? We have some Revolts to stomp out."
1111
Loki was in Hell. Not physically, but this had to be the next best thing. She Loved God, she really did, and she did not love Michael more. Nothing could take her devotion from God. It was just...he was so beautiful, and so close, and his smile did funny things to her insides.
If that wasn't love, she didn't bloody well know what love was. And since she was an angel, it was pretty obvious that she knew what love was. In a way, she WAS love. She had been Created out of love. Love more or less consituted her entire being. That main part of this love had been directed at God since her Creation. And the rest of that love had been directed at everything else. It was just...well, lately, a bit more than usual of that love had been directed at Michael.
Loki resisted the urge to find a blunt object and beat her head against it.
Angels Fell when they fell in love. Damien had done the same thing, and he had sided with Lucifer because he had thought that if Lucifer had won the revolt, he would have been able to be with her.
And now Loki was in the same bloody boat, minus the Rebellion and Lucifer.
She was so screwed.
At this exact moment, she was in a tree. Sarelil had went off to check in with the office. Aziraphale and Crowley were deep in conversation with Adam, discussing the Antichrist's reconstruction of the world. Basically, from what Loki heard, they were trying to understand how much he could find out just by using his mind.
She thought he could probably cover a lot of ground. Michael was sitting near them, his eyes half-closed and his expression intent. Damien caught her eye and stood.
She waited patiently, not moving as he hopped up into the tree next to her. "Penny for your thoughts?"
She waved a hand dismissively. "Waste of money," she said drily. "It's not worth that much."
Damien tilted his head, regarding her with shielded eyes. "You're in love with him."
Her smile was small and ironic, much as Michael's had been earlier. "Is it that obvious?"
Her brother shrugged. "I've seen it before," he said softly. He reached into one of his black trenchcoat's multitude of pockets and pulled out his cigarettes. And Loki, seized by the impulsiveness that had gotten her punished so many times, held out her hand.
"Can I bum one of those?" she asked.
Damien looked at her again, took in her expression, shrugged, and handed her the one he had just lit. "Here, take this one. Don't touch the tip," he advised. "It's Hellfire."
She shrugged and took a deep drag, inhaling easily. The fact that it wasn't the first one she had ever smoked made it a great deal easier. Even angels kept secrets from God.
Damien looked down at his boots for a long moment. "Does he know?"
Loki winced. "He feels the same way."
He took another drag and tilted his head back, regarding the leaves over their heads with the same intense interest he'd used on his boots. He blew out three perfect smoke rings, saying nothing for a long moment. "Are you sure?"
She smiled, but without humor. "No, but I'm rather hoping, because if he doesn't, it really puts the kibosh on what we've been getting punished for."
Damien's head spun around to face her in a way that no human head would have been able to manage. It reminded Loki, rather uncomfortably, of the child in the movie 'The Exorcist.' The part where her head spin around just before she spit up pea soup. He gaped at her for a moment, reveealing long, glistening fangs that also made her very uncomfortable. "You didn't," he said, his voice closer to a low growl than a human voice.
Loki laughed, tilting her head back and blowing out smoke rings in the exact same way he had. It seemed like a vaguely demonic pose to Damien, but she was still angelic. The eyes gave it away. "Oh, we did. Whatever you're thinking of and possibly more. Now I understand why humans get their tongues peirced. It's...nifty."
Damien gaped at her for another second, then nearly fell out of the tree. "Oh, dear sister, I didn't know you had it in you." He gave her the definition of an evil smirk. "Pun intended."
Loki pushed him out of the tree.
break
When Crowley, Aziraphale, Michael, and Adam caught up with them, Damien was lying flat on his back on the grass, laughing like a lunatic. Loki dropped silently down next to him, stepped out her cigarette and turned to face them, expressionlessly. Michael narrowed his eyes at her. She met his gaze evenly. For a moment, there seemed to be a battle of wits going on.
For a moment, it seemed as if Michael's steady concern was making some kind of impression. But then Loki turned her back on him and bent to help her brother up.
All expression left Michael's face, and he straightened. Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged glances. This was really getting them nowhere.
"Uh, Anathema and Newt live in Jasmine Cottage, right down that way," Adam said, looking nervous. "I'll go with you, if you want."
Damien shook his head. "No, we don't want to seem too official." He brushed grass off his coat. "Or get your old man pissed at us."
Adam grinned at them. Dog was at his feet. It was looking at Damien with an intent expression, like he'd seen him before, but couldn't quite remember where. Damien crouched down and held one hand out to the miniature Hellhound. "Hi, there, Sparky," he said softly, drawing Dog closer. Dog let out joyous bark of recognition and scrambled onto Damien's legs, enthusiastically licking his face.
"I take it you two have met?" Loki said drily.
"Yeah," Damien said, scratching Dog behind the ears. "I have a lot to do with the Hellhounds."
Michael touched Loki's sleeve and drew her aside. "Loki, what's wrong? What's going on?"
Her gaze was steady as she met his eyes. "I think I'm going to Fall," was all she said.
Michael paled. "No. No, of course you're not! Why?"
Her laughter was sharp-edged. "For love, Michael. I've already fallen in love. What's a trip to Hell?" Then she pulled away and rejoined the others.
Aziraphale's eyes were filled with pain. He just touched her arm and nodded once. So close to the edge...
He knew the path she walked. Not the exact twists and turns, but he had a vague idea. She was going to Fall. It would not be as Crowley had, a vague, downward saunter for his own, vague reasons. It would be a short, fiery descent, and those who were near her when she landed would regret it.
He patted her hand in the most comforting way he could managed and prayed to God that he was wrong.
TBC...