Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's "Preacher." Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: Based on the popular fan theory that Fiore and Deblanc are actually Genesis parents. I wanted to examine their backstory a bit and ended up getting ahead of myself, so-

Disclaimer:canon appropriate violence, blood, gore, injury, death, religious imagery/definitions/symbolism/discussion.

Temenos

Chapter Six

The next time they met on the battlefield he did something he hadn't done in all his memory.

He hesitated.

The angel just clean missed.

On purpose.

It was all terribly awkward.

Worse, they stared at each other like they both knew it too.

Wide eyed and absolutely lost.

Eventually he stepped forward. Just to see what would happen. Taking a second step, then a third when the angel merely stared back at him, holding his ground. Suspicious, but similarly curious, similarly needy and-

They were close enough that he could have extended his hand and practically touched him. He shouldn't have been surprised, considering he was the one who'd done the heavy lifting so far, but somehow he still was. Baffled that the angel had allowed – was still allowing it - as a thousand words died on the tip of his tongue.

They both jerked when a squadron of Seraphim flew overhead. Looming huge shadows over the battlefield, a chilling reminder of where they were and who could be watching. They couldn't know. They couldn't! If they did they'd both be-

He reached down - as close to a fumble has he'd gotten since he'd been newly made - searching for his hell-steel before-

The sword slash, when it came, was more like a jab of muscle memory than anything else. Like something the angel felt he had to do rather than wanted to. He could tell the angel's heart - if he had one – hadn't been in it. If it had he would have been dead already.

He sucked in a wrench of air, the same air that was ruffling the angel's feathers. Flaring them out like a hundred gauzy banners as the battle raged around them. Watching the squadron's progress far above them as they continued on course. Surveying the battlefield as the danger that'd been driving them dropped into obscurity.

"I'm sorry," the angel stuttered. Taking shape above him as his halo flickered - it's usual golden light hazing in and out. Displaying a flaring, almost ethereal sort of blue he'd never seen before.

"Why?" he croaked, tasting the bitter foul of his own red creeping up his throat.

It wouldn't be long now.

But something made him hold on.

Sinking his claws deep into the dead soil like a handhold.

Like by sheer force of will he could stay just a little longer.

"I don't know," the angel whispered. So caught up in it that he didn't notice the demon creeping up behind him. He watched it happen with helpless fascination. The warning cry building in his throat was far too late. Getting stuck before it could leave his lips as he watched the demon blade erupt through the angel's chest from behind. Making him arc, dropping his blade and falling to his knees and his hands came up like the mockery of a prayer. Slumping into the dirt close beside him when the demon wrenched the blade free and turned away, deed done.

"I'm sorry too," he mouthed, words so soft they were softer than a whisper. Eyes fixed on the smudge of filth that coated the angel's cheek when he turned his head towards him.

"Why?" the angel echoed, not so much a question as it was a broken exhale. Match his furrowed brow and the tortured lines that'd taken up residence around his mouth when he hadn't been looking.

"I don't know either," he answered, so brutally honest that the angel closed his eyes and shuddered.

They died there together.

Side by side and quiet.

If he'd extended his fingers they could have brushed.

But he didn't.

He regretted it for over a decade.

It took him about five years or so to realize that the angel was avoiding him.

Ducking deeper into the battle whenever they caught sight of each other.

Or just not there, period.

Either way, he didn't like it.

Obviously, this would not do at all.

It took another five years to successfully get the angel alone again. But when he did, backing him slowly into an obscure little crevice cave he'd discovered centuries ago - deep in the hard volcanic pumice - snickering a bit as the angel had to fold himself in half just to keep him at a safe distance, he realized he hadn't thought far enough ahead as to what he was going to do with him now that he finally had him.

They stared at each other for what felt like an age before he took a deep breath and shrugged. Throwing caution to the wind the same time as he allowed his sword to slip through his fingers. Clanging horribly against the rock like a final statement. Listening to the echoes spread and weave as the angel's eyes widened. Looking from him to his abandoned sword like he couldn't quite believe it.

"What are you doing?" the angel demanded, white uniform freckled with a fine mist of red but no visible smears. Like he hadn't had a chance to do much fighting before he found him.

"Nothing," he answered honestly. Leaning backwards until he was flush against the wall before lowering himself to the floor of the cave with a grunt. "Absolutely nothing."

"Why?"

"I don't know," he returned, twisting it back on him with natural flare. Finding it all too easy to get under the angel's skin. "What are you doing?

"Asking you what you are doing," The angel said bluntly, without even a hint of sarcasm.

"Not fighting?" he said innocently, knowing he had him cornered when the angel's lips pursed.

He let that part of their reality sink in for a time. The part where he hadn't made a move to pick up his steel. And despite opinions to the contrary, the angel had made no move to raise his either.

It seemed like they were at something of a stalemate.

He considered the situation at length. Pleased that the sounds of battle seemed to have moved off for the time being. The angel, however, never took his eyes off him. Seemingly resigned for the moment he proved this to be some elaborate trap or a joke at the expense of his pride.

But he was still here, wasn't he?

That had to mean something.

He wasn't comfortable asking himself why yet. Why he'd sought him out. Why he'd dropped his weapons. Why he needed this. No, why they needed this. He had a feeling that once he did he'd fall into an abyss that had no ending. So here he was, stalled at the edge. Circling. Trying to get the answers he wanted without taking the ultimate risk.

He sighed, eyes flicking up to meet the angel's as they shared a guarded look. Patting the ground beside him in open invitation. Finding something thrilling and heartbreaking in it. In what it meant. In what he was giving away. In what they might be working towards or-

The angel looked down at him with clear disdain. But it was an expression that softened almost the second it appeared. Winding back down into confusion and uncertainty as he jerked his head and settled next to a flat stone on the other side of the cave. Sinking down on his haunches with a careful motion, something that highlighted miles of pale skin and strong thighs. He watched, fascinated, as the angel slowly placed his blades to the side, leaning them up against the flatness of the rock. Close enough to grab but settled far enough away that it mirrored the placement of his own steel.

It seemed like as good a start as any.

"What do they call you?" he asked after a while. Not wanting to push his luck, but not wanting the opportunity to pass by either. Cognizant that whatever time they had was limited. Precious.

"Why?" the angel asked bluntly, long legs slowly stretching out of his crouch. Thin leather sandals rasping across the rocky ground as the leather criss-crossed up his calves caught roughly against the gravel.

"It's just a question."

"No it isn't. It's an opening," the angel pointed out firmly. Apparently determined to catch him in anything even remotely approximating subterfuge. Making it impossible not to send him a sharp toothed smile as the angel reared. Wings puffing up like he'd threatened him.

The entire thing gave him an undeniable thrill.

He hadn't had a decent sparring partner, verbal or otherwise, in ages.

"And if it is?" he returned easily. Fully prepared to settle in for a long debate as a muscle in his thigh threatened to fidget in excitement.

"Fiore." the angel answered curtly. Lisping pleasantly through the familiar syllables as the change of direction caught him off guard.

He blinked. Uncertain of what to make of it until the angel sighed - dangerously close to long suffering.

"They call me Fiore."

He drew it in slowly.

Like it was a precious gift he barely trusted himself to handle.

"And you?"

It was on the tip of his tongue before he called it back; his runes in hell speak. Stopping himself before he let the rest of the foul syllables fly. Instead, he replaced it with the only other name he knew. The one that'd been branded into the skin of the soul who had worn this flesh before him. The flawed man with the restless memories.

"Deblanc."

The light from outside had barely changed, but somehow he could tell.

Night was falling.

"You will be missed?"

He posed it as a question and a statement all at once. Just another jarring reminder that there was nothing keeping the angel here save himself. He wasn't forcing him to stay, despite wanting to. Not wanting to risk the moment where the spell would break and send them back to their accustomed places. Still, it seemed important say it out loud. Free will and all that. And honestly, he wasn't sure who he was reminding. The angel or himself.

But instead of making to leave, Fiore merely nodded. Wings fluttering through a shallow stretch behind him as he leaned his long frame against the rocky interior.

"Yes. But I will tell them I saw suspicious activity. I'm sure they would be interested to learn that the demon who was responsible for burning the garrison was discovered in the middle of the battlefield. I merely followed to ensure I wasn't mistaken. They will believe it."

His lip tugged up. Privately impressed. He had no doubt they would. No one would ever suspect such a sweet one. A creature host to so little guile or with any real passion for holy deceit and hatred. It set him apart from the others. It made him different. Unique. Better.

"Careful, now," he teased. "You'll give a demon the wrong idea. I might start thinking you like me."

Somewhere outside a victorious burst of angel song piped triumphantly through the dark. Contrasting the with lighter notes as the angel positively glowed at him across the cave.

"There's nothing about you to like," the angel called Fiore told him blandly. But not bland as it could have been, which made it easy for him to slap it right back. Grinning widely as discomfort spread across the angel's features.

"I thought your lot taught that lying was a sin, hmm?" he needled. Holding on to a raucous chuckle by the sharp of his teeth as wholesome amusement spread like something pleasant deep in his gut.

The face the angel made in response was beyond priceless.

The night stretched on, finding something worth savoring in it - even in the quiet - as he watched the angel watch him. Finding they almost didn't need words to fill it as the realization of what they were caught up in spread like ripples on an inlet pond.

"The tome you were reading that night in the garrison, what was it about?" he asked suddenly, breaking the long silence as the angel cocked his head.

"Architecture," Fiore answered, before pausing like he might need clarification. "Construction."

"Why?"

"I wish to create, not destroy," Fiore replied simply, honestly. Giving him the impression this was the first time he'd ever said as much out loud. "I wish to restore the heavenly kingdom to its former glory. To erase the stains of this war."

It was incredibly naive, but he couldn't help but try and picture it all the same.

He'd never stopped to consider that the endless war would ever actually end.

But this angel had.

In fact, he longed for it.

The difference in perspective was startling.

"And you?" the angel asked, surprising him with the question. "What do you wish?

He thought about answering with a jibe. To tease him with a laugh or a clever twist of words. To remind him of what he was. To look him in the eyes before his blade sank home, proving the angel right. Showing him exactly what he was. Just another a demon. Not more worth his attention than the war-filth that coated his skin after a day on the battlefield. A foul creature that wished only for more. More pain. More suffering. More death. More corruption. More. More. More.

Only he didn't.

He couldn't.

Still, his answer managed to surprise him.

"To rest," he croaked. Meaning it in every way one could possible mean those two restless little words. Feeling the weight of it - of everything - in a way he never had before as the angel merely nodded. Blue eyes shining bright with the power of his grace. Making to speak like he hadn't just said something impossible.

"I'll keep watch," the angel told him, somehow managing to sit up straighter against the jagged rock. On guard and watchful. "If anyone approaches, I'll wake you."

He didn't have it in him to tell him he'd misunderstood.

Instead, he just closed his eyes.

And oddly enough, for the first time in perhaps ever, he slept.

A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – There will be more to come, stay tuned.