Word Count: 1019
Note: angel and demon!au
What a beautiful day, Barty thinks, folding his golden wings around his body. Below, he can see the earth. The sun is shining so brightly, and it is just so beautiful.
He shakes his head as though the movement can force the thought from his mind. Why should it matter if the world is beautiful? He is an angel, a being who does not have free will the way those happy-go-lucky humans do.
This is all Regulus' fault. If not for the demon, he wouldn't be here on the edge, so ready to fall.
…
Barty, despite being an angel, is not particularly graceful. He falls and collides with the ground. Someone laughs, and he jumps to his feet, pulling out his seraph blade, prepared to strike.
The man just grins down at him. To the untrained eye, he might look like a human, but Barty has Angelic Sight. He can see the onyx markings across the man's skin. "Demon," he spits.
Another laugh. The demon waves away the blade dismissively. "Put that thing away before you hurt yourself," he snorts.
Barty doesn't back down. He holds his head high, gripping the blade. "You are an abomination."
A handsome abomination, but an abomination nonetheless.
"You really think you can take me? Scrappy little thing, aren't you?" The demon studies him silently. "Don't flatter yourself, mate. What's your name?"
"Bartemius," Barty answers because his father is revered, because his father is a renowned demon slayer. That name should strike fear in the hearts of those who hear it.
"What a stupid name. I'll call you Barty. My name is Regulus."
"I'll kill you," Barty tells him.
Regulus just smirks. "I'd like to see you try."
…
He doesn't know what he's doing here. Not really. He wishes he did. It would make things so much easier if he had all the answers.
But he isn't all-knowing. He isn't the great Albus, the commander of the heavenly host. He is just Barty, and he has to navigate this world, always alert, always so afraid that he might become ensnared in some great trip.
He thinks that might be the case now. Regulus has trapped him like a fly in a web.
Except that isn't quite true. Barty could have run, couldn't he? Just like now. He could still run. So why doesn't he?
…
"Hello, Angel," Regulus says with a smirk. "Might I say your wings look quite extravagant. Did you do something different?"
Barty scowls. "Are you following me now? You have no business here."
"Oh, but I do. So many souls to damn, so little time," Regulus replies, his voice sweet as honey.
"Go away. You will not touch a single soul in this city."
Regulus moves close, radiating arrogance. There's a look in his eyes that challenges Barty to try and stop him, a look that says he bows to no one. "Gonna stop me, are you?" His voice comes out as a low growl. "Come on, then. Try."
And Barty does. He is fast, but Regulus matches his speed easily enough. They are both just as strong, and neither seem to be able to get the upper hand.
Not until Barty loses his footing. Regulus lands on top of him, straddling his waist with a triumphant grin. "So close, Angel," he says, leaning in. "What do I win?"
When Barty doesn't respond, Regulus just chuckles and captures his lips in a rough, bruising kiss.
They break away after several seconds. Regulus smirks as he climbs to his feet again. "Look at that. Not so pure anymore."
Barty sits up and examines himself. There, right where a human's heart would be, he sees onyx lines, just like the markings of a demon.
"How dare you?" Barty demands, jumping to his feet.
Regulus just smiles. "See you around, Barty."
…
He doesn't know if there's even a point in staying. He is tainted now, corrupt. Sure, Barty could do penance and try to be absolved, but he isn't sure that anything will fix this.
Worse still, he doesn't know if he wants to be clean again.
…
His father is angry. Barty is sure that ought to be a sin, but no one ever seems to care. They call it righteous anger, like Barty somehow deserves this wrath.
"You have some nerve bringing that filthy mark into this realm!"
Barty shakes his head. "Father…"
His father strikes him hard across the face. Righteous anger. The fury of a soldier, of God's chosen. Barty is meant to just accept it, to be grateful his father is dealing with it himself.
"You are disgusting!"
Barty should apologize. Instead, he holds his head high. "I feel euphoric."
"Enough gibberish. Renounce your sins."
"No."
"You dare to defy me?" his father asks, glitterings flapping angrily.
"You are not my master," Barty snaps. "It does not matter if I defy you."
Another slap, harder now. It stings and burns, but Barty does not back down. Regulus has emboldened him, he thinks. "Repent!"
There's more to life than this. He's always thought demons had it all wrong, but he isn't so sure now. Demons are free. Demons have a future, a choice. What do angels have? Morality? It's almost laughable now.
"No, Father. I don't think I will."
…
Barty moves closer to the edge, and he drops.
Pain like he has never felt grips his body. His wings twist, becoming broken, pitiful things. His skin burns, and he knows what he will see when he crashes. All of the Fallen are identified by the onyx markings on their bodies.
He screams as he crashes, but there is something comforting about the feeling. With a groan, Barty sits up. Regulus is there, grinning.
"So, you did it."
"I'm broken," Barty whispers.
Regulus sits beside him, gripping his hand. "Things break," he tells Barty, "but they can still grow."
Barty looks at him. His handsome abomination. The twisted, vile thing that made him want to fall.
He kisses Regulus, and it feels so right. Smiling into the kiss, he almost wishes he had done this sooner.
