Devery rose late the next morning, ignoring the sounds coming from the kitchen, and dressed quietly. She planned on training with her swords and bo staff this morning, regardless of who was awake. After last night she felt…off balance.

Tying her sneakers onto her feet she wound her hair into a tight bun before strapping her swords to her hips and opening her door, allowing the sounds of the bunker into her room and her mind. She could hear Michael talking softly, his voice rough and low with exhaustion and when she heard Gabriel reply, something rippled through her abdomen making her stutter to a halt and listen, eavesdropping at the corner.

"I cannot believe you would show such an utter lack of judgment Gabriel," Michael scolded.

Gabriel chuckled softly and Devery's stomach clenched as memory of his mocking laughter from the night before rippled through her. "It takes two to tango brother. I didn't force her. If anything, she provoked me," Gabriel murmured, his voice amused.

Michael scoffed, "I doubt that very much," he replied.

This time Gabriel's voice was serious when he replied, "Brother, she was…wild. Her anger drove her to attack me and she was begging for me to hurt her. Had I not held back, I might have," he murmured thoughtfully.

A shiver of pleasure ran through Devery at the thought of what Gabriel might be able to do to her, and a breath later she berated herself. She shouldn't be thinking about his hands gripping her so tightly they left bruise marks, or his teeth biting down to cut into her skin, over and over again…

She exhaled sharply and bit her lip, her eyes drifting closed.

She needed to go train.

Opening her eyes she squared her shoulders and walked down the hall, pushing open the door to Miles's old room where Michael had been staying, sighing softly in relief when she saw that neither angel was within the room.

She quickly strode down the hidden hallway to the training room and began her exercises with her swords, losing herself in the patterns that Miles had taught her until she felt her anxiety and worries slip away.

As she whirled and her swords whistled through the air, figures near the doorway caught her eye and she slowed infinitesimally, until she saw it was Michael and Gabriel and continued through the pattern she had been working on.

It was one Miles had written about in his journals; journals she had only recently discovered, and to her amazement, he had written of training and weapon skills he hadn't yet mastered, despite his years of mastery.

The pattern required a figure eight movement with the right hand with one sword while the left hand held a high block and then feinted low, the feet moving in a square pattern around the room for four paces before the hands switched.

Devery breathed and completed the pattern, then switched, fluid as water across stones in a river. She ran through the pattern twice more before sighing and stopping, sheathing her swords in a swift movement and turning to face the angels watching her.

"Can I help you?" she asked brusquely.

Michael's lips turned up in a faint approximation of a smile as he pulled away from the wall he had been leaning against, his lanky form shrouded by shadows. "You're more impressive than you had let on Devery," he murmured.

She shrugged, despite the thrill of pleasure that rippled through her at his words. She knew she was talented, but hearing it from an archangel like Michael was truly special, no matter what she told herself.

"A girl has to have her secrets," she replied softly as she turned to lift the bo staff from the wall of weapons. She moved swiftly and threw it to Michael, smirking when he caught it midair, no hint of surprise on his handsome face.

She glanced at Gabriel, her brow rising for a moment before she tossed him another staff from the wall, giving him an arch look that he improved upon by giving her a salacious smile.

She smirked and stepped back, "Give me your best boys," she taunted and lifted her staff, twirling it lazily as she walked slowly in a circle, waiting as the angels prowled, their faces predatory and dark.

Michael struck first; his staff whipped towards her abdomen in a blur. Had she been anyone else, she would have had multiple bruised and broken ribs. Because she was raised and trained by Miles and a Knight of Heaven, her staff was lifting before his was even moving and blocking it as it struck; a resounding smacking sound knocking through the room.

Gabriel slid behind her and whipped his staff just as fast towards her spine, thinking he could incapacitate her. Devery hooked her staff so that Michael's lifted and went flying from his grip, leaving him defenseless.

Her staff whirled until it aligned with her spine, clacking solidly against Gabriel's as he brought his where he thought there had been a weakness, but there was no more. She abruptly spun and wrenched her staff, forcing him to adjust his feet and staff until he was backing up, defending himself as she attacked relentlessly.

Her vision narrowed as she focused on her prey, the snicks of their staffs barely registering in her hearing. The twists of Gabriel's body became her focus, every movement betraying and relaying what he would do next, and allowing her to attack with a precision and viciousness that amazed Gabriel.

Michael retrieved his staff and charged the battling duo, twirling it to bring down on Devery's head.

At the last moment her grip changed and she held her own staff with one hand—her other hand whirling up to grasp his staff in a grip that was so tight her knuckles were white where they gripped the wood.

Michael heard the wood creak and a moment later his staff splintered in his grip as her grasp tightened. Devery wrenched Michael to the left and sent him sprawling to the floor, her attention still on Gabriel and where their staffs met.

She stepped back and then whipped her staff to his temple, tempering the blow so that it tapped him. Still, the blow sent him stumbling back against the wall, his head ringing, his own staff dropping uselessly from his hands.

Devery breathed out slowly and bowed slowly to both her opponents, brushing the loose strands of hair back from her face.

Michael chuckled as he sat up, shaking his head, "It seems we've underestimated you Devery," he said, clambering to his feet with a smile. Devery went over to offer him a hand, smirking softly.

"I haven't really been giving either of you a real fight," she replied.

"You've been holding back?" Gabriel asked incredulously, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he struggled to clear the ache from his head.

She grinned toothily at him and nodded, "You're not the only ones who know how to play outside the rules," she murmured wryly.

"Why-" Gabriel started to ask.

"Because. You're angels. You've always had all the power. Why should you know all about my powers? That's hardly fair," Devery replied sharply, turning to slide her staff back into its place on the wall.

"So you'll stop Lucifer?" Michael asked softly.

She stiffened and stared at the wall of weapons for a long moment before turning and walking to the doorway, "I'll do what I can," she replied before walking away, leaving the angels no time to ask her more.

Michael and Gabriel slowly moved to replace the weapons that Devery had given them, their balance still thrown off by her incredible display of power.

"I didn't know she was so powerful," Gabriel murmured, his voice wary as he placed his staff next to his brother's.

Michael nodded and sighed, "She's likely the only one who can stop Lucifer, but if she ever decided to join him…"

Gabriel nodded, "We would lose everything," he murmured.

Devery showered after her training session with the angels and dressed in her favorite pair of torn jeans, off the shoulder sweater and combat boots, her hair pulled back into a French braid. She walked into the storage pantry and began taking notes on what she was low on; it shouldn't have been much—she didn't eat much and her hunting and gardening kept supplied well maintained.

Frowning she listed down the items that she would need to go and try and find. Coffee, liquor, lentils, and beans. The angles drank more coffee than she did, and she had consumed more liquor in the past week and half than she cared to admit.

Sighing, she shut off the light in the storage room and went out to the kitchen, yanking open a drawer to pull out her maps, each of which had marks revealing stashes of food, weapons and vehicles in case she ever needed to bug out.

She stood at the counter carefully studying the maps, deciding which of the locations she should raid so that none became too depleted. If any had too many of the stores taken she wouldn't be able to run and continue running safely, should she need to in the future.

"What are you doing?"

Her shoulders stiffened at the sound of Gabriel's voice.

"Looking for a good place to resupply," she answered as nonchalantly as possible.

Gabriel looked around in surprise, "This place seems pretty well handled," he replied, waving a hand around at the admittedly stylish set up that Miles had managed to set up years in advance of the angel invasion.

Devery nodded and rolled up the map, tucking it into the drawer once more before turning to face Gabriel, ignoring the thrill that went through her at the look on his face. "It is, but with three people here it needs more in the way of coffee and alcohol, and dried goods. I'll have to make a run if we're going to be here for much longer," she replied stiffly, moving to walk past him.

Gabriel stepped in front of her, cutting off her path, a faint smirk on his lips as he did. "I'll come with you," he said, not offering, his words a command, simple and soft.

Devery hated the way her body responded to his authoritative tone; her spine arched and a ripple of pleasure ran through her, her nipples ached and a low throbbing sensation settled into her abdomen, aching for release.

She narrowed her eyes, "Fuck you," she replied softly.

Gabriel moved swiftly, trapping her against the counter with his hips, his hands splayed against the faux marble and his lips just a breath away from her ear, his hot breath skating against her skin, "Happily darling, happily," he replied.

Devery's eyes fluttered at the sensation of his body against hers and she bit back a moan, her fingers digging into the countertop for a moment before they flew to his chest and shoved him away, her eyes flying open, blazing with annoyance.

"Be ready to leave in ten minutes," she snapped, her pulse thrumming in her throat.

"I'm ready when you are," Gabriel replied smoothly, a low, suggestive laugh rumbling from his chest as he watched her stalk away and down the hall.

"Still getting in trouble?" Michael asked softly, walking out of the shadows from where he had been watching his brother and Devery. Gabriel turned and smirked at him devilishly and Michael shook his head wryly.

"She started it," Gabriel murmured amusedly.

"You're older, you should know better," Michael replied softly, scoldingly.

"And if I don't want to know better?" Gabriel asked, looking down the hall where Devery had gone.

Michael studied his brother for a moment and then sighed heavily, shaking his head, "You'll have to live with the consequences I suppose," he replied, hoping they weren't too cataclysmic.

Gabriel turned and gave his brother a smile full of wicked intent, "You I've never shied from the consequences of my actions," he replied brashly before sauntering off to the room Michael was occupying to borrow a fresh pair of clothes from the former occupant's closet; his current outfit was sweat stained and no longer fresh.

Five minutes later Devery slammed her door open, a backpack slung over one shoulder and an empty duffel bag in the other hand as she strode down the hallway, ignoring Gabriel as he stepped out of Michael's room in a fresh outfit, grinning broadly at her.

Michael followed closely behind his brother in a fresh outfit, his hair damp and slick against his skull; apparently both brothers had changed, and the elder angel had showered. She wondered when Michael would sleep—he was looking worn around the eyes after his night of scouting and morning of training against her.

As she strode to the bunker doors she glanced over at Michael and lifted a brow, "You should rest, you look like shit," she murmured with a fond smirk.

His lips twitched and he tilted his head towards her in an approximation of acceptance, "I shall rest while you and Gabriel are gone. But please, be careful," he urged her, his eyes wide with concern as she twisted the large hatch doors open, bright daylight spilling into the dark of the bunker.

Devery glanced at Gabriel as he stepped around her and into the wilderness surrounding the bunker, quickly her gaze flew back to Michael, "I'll be fine, we both will," she reassured him.

Michael nodded slowly and laid a hand on her shoulder, smiling faintly at her, "Thank you for helping us," he murmured, his voice warm with affection.

Devery stared at him in surprise; she had been expecting him to say something about his brother, not thank her. "I-uh, you're welcome," she muttered awkwardly before turning and walking quickly past Gabriel to the smaller bunker where the vehicles were stored, leaving the angels to stare after her.

Michael stepped forward and laid a restraining hand on his brother's shoulder, tightening his grip until Gabriel winced and scowled at him, "What?!" he demanded, attempting to wriggle out from under his grasp.

Michael's eyes burned into Gabriel's, all playfulness that he might have felt or tried gone at the look in Michael's gaze. "I expect you to behave brother. She barely trusts either of us and will abandon this mission at the slightest hint of betrayal or stupidity from us."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed in anger, "You mean me, not us" he accused, successfully twisting out of his brother's grip, his own eyes blazing with frustration now.

"Of the two of us, you're the only one who has imprisoned, beaten, and nearly killed her. Try not to give her any more reason to distrust you, that's all I'm counseling," Michael assured him.

Gabriel huffed a breath through his nose heavily and looked over to the other bunker where Devery was rolling motorcycle out and parking it. She looked up and their gazes caught, instantly something fiery and dark sparked between them, her jaw tensing and her shoulders squaring as she turned sharply on her heel and marched back into the bunker.

Michael sighed, "You already did something, didn't you?" he murmured, shaking his head, "I told you last night was a mistake," he scolded, his brow furrowed heavily.

Gabriel laughed bitterly, "You may enjoy self flagellation brother, but I do not. What happened is done. I told you, she was practically begging me for it. I won't apologize for giving a woman what she wants."

Michael looked sharply at his brother and was interested to see not prurient amusement on his face, but a dark, bitter look twisting his handsome face as he looked over the grassy clearing towards where Devery was wheeling another motorcycle out of the bunker.

"Well…then, I shall simply remind you to be cautious. What a woman asks for is not always what she wants," Michael murmured, his mind on his fallen ex-lover Becca. Her interests in him and other angels had been much darker than he had ever imagined…

Gabriel grunted softly and shook his head, "I'll keep that in mind," he muttered before shifting his shoulders and striding away from his brother, over to where Devery was inspecting the motorcycles, her gaze intent.

He stood over her in a wide stance, intent on making her look up at him, his smirk fading when she refused to acknowledge him. He shifted and leaned down slightly to peer at the bike, trying to see what had captured her attention so thoroughly.

"You expect me to ride this?" he demanded loudly, smirking when she jumped lightly and glared up at him.

She stood and pushed past him, brushing grease off onto her tight black pants, pants that he noticed nicely molded to her firm ass…

"If you want to come with me on this supply run, then yes, you will," she replied firmly, leaning down to grab something. She tossed him something that smacked into his chest with a soft whuff of fabric against solid muscle and he looked down at the balled up duffle bag in his hands and frowned faintly.

"How far are we going?" he demanded.

She shrugged and swung her leg over one of the bikes, winding a scarf around her hair and the lower half of her face, pinning it behind her ear before sliding a helmet on over the fabric. "It's about a day's ride from here. We'll stock up once we're there and stay the night and then ride back. All told, it'll be about three days," she replied, her voice faintly muffled.

Gabriel went to the bike that was to be his and shoved the empty duffle into the saddlebag, pulling out a helmet with a soft scoffing noise before strapping it to his head with a faint scowl. "I'm surprised you want me around that long," he replied tartly.

Her engine roared to life and she glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes dark, "Convince me you're worthy to be around," she shouted and with a growl of the throttle, she shot forward through the forest, the tires kicking up dirt towards his face.

With a smile that was more a grimace, he revved his engine and took off after her, the thrill of the chase heating his blood.

Devery cut the engine on her bike and kicked the stand down, peering down the mountain in the direction that they were heading at the storm that was rolling in. She could see the front of it, painting the ground white with snow, and in the distance lightning flashed.

Shaking her head in frustration she glanced over at Gabriel and waved a hand towards the storm, "We've still got a hundred miles to go, straight into that monster. We'd be lucky to be able to see where we were going, let alone not freeze to death. I don't know where it came from, it's not supposed to storm like this for at least another two months," she spit angrily.

Gabriel leaned forward and studied the storm, his brow furrowing. Closing his eyes he inhaled…a bolt of lightning went straight up his spine and he nearly fell off his bike, his eyes widening as he struggled to hold the handlebars, keeping the motorcycle straight beneath him.

"Wha—the fuck?" Devery yelped, throwing a hand out to steady him, her eyes wide at his reaction.

Gabriel glared at the storm for a moment before turning his gaze to her, "Lucifer. He's done this somehow. He's trying to stop us, kill us probably." He looked around at the landscape, eyes narrowing, "Is there another refueling spot near here?" he demanded.

Devery sighed heavily and stared out at the landscape before them; there had been a town down below, and when the world had ended, Miles had raided the houses and had set up a drop point for supplies.

There were ten others within 50 miles of the bunker, and on the map of what used to be the Unites States, there were multiple ones across every state. Miles had been a busy man, and she had followed in his footsteps, scouring the continent for supplies and killing 8-balls.

This was the closest supply point, the other one was nearly three hours north, and they were already low on gas. There was a small gas supply in the town, a waystation, if they hurried they could get there before the storm hit and resupply; possibly make it out after buying some clothes to withstand the cold.

She sighed, "There's a waystation in what used to be the town. If we can make it there and hunker down before the storm hits, we can refuel and make it to the supply stop. The waystations usually have limited supplies, and with it being closer to winter, they might even have some clothing we can buy to withstand the storm," she murmured.

Gabriel nodded, "Fine, let's hurry. Lucifer won't hesitate to kill us if he can manage it," he growled, glaring at the approaching storm.

The pair revved their engines and took off in a blaze of dirt and fear induced speed, racing against the unnatural storm. As they tore down the mountain, the storm seemed to howl and press forward ever faster, challenging them.

Devery felt fear clutch her heart like a cold fist and pushed her bike harder, feeling the throttle vibrate in her hand, the trees and scenery rushing past in a blur that was indiscernible.

The ruined town quickly surrounded them and she led Gabriel to the waystation at the center, the brick building that had once been a city hall long ago converted into a stopping place for weary travelers of the apocalypse.

She and Gabriel skidded to a stop in the garage that had been attached to the building and shut off the bikes, their hot breath steaming in the rapidly chilling air. Devery twisted off her helmet and grabbed her pack, slinging it over her shoulder, pocketing the keys to the bike.

"Come on," she ordered, striding to the waystation door, peering in through the glass to see how many people were inside.

She doubted there would be anyone but the manager, she didn't see any motorcycles or cars in the garage, but looks could be deceiving, and that could be dangerous, especially with this strange storm bearing down on them.

Pushing the door open she inhaled the scent of pine, smoke, spilled whiskey, and old stale sweat. Wrinkling her nose, she walked slowly forward, peering around, her shoulders tight with anticipation as she searched for any sign of other guests, her stomach in knots with worry.

Rounding the corner she exhaled in relief when she saw the common room was empty of people; the only person other than them in the room was the woman behind the bar—a tough looking older woman whose silver hair was braided into a crown on her head and a pair of glasses perched on her nose, allowing her to read from a thick book.

Devery walked cautiously to the counter and tapped her fingers on it lightly, "Excuse me," she murmured, giving the older woman a polite, stiff smile when she looked up from her book.

The woman's eyes narrowed at her and she set her book down, "What do you want?" she demanded.

"That's hardly any way to treat your only customers," Gabriel replied sarcastically, leaning on the bar with a smirk, his hair falling forward into his eyes.

The woman turned blazing green eyes on him, a look on her face that could peel paint, "You aint my customers yet. For all I know you wanna string me up and kill me for what I got. So I'll ask again, what do you want?" she demanded, and this time they both heard the cocking of a gun barrel.

Devery winced and lifted her other hand to rest on the bar, showing that she didn't have a weapon in it—though that hardly mattered, she had enough on her person and enough raw power to kill this woman before she ever pulled the trigger.

"We just want to fill up our tanks on our bikes and wait out the storm until its safe to ride again," Devery assured her softly, "If we could get something to eat as well, we'd certainly appreciate it," she murmured.

The older woman studied her for a long time, her eyes narrowed, a suspicious look in her eye, her mouth pinched tight. Just when Devery thought she was going to turn them away, she nodded slowly, "Very well. I've got some stew in the back and day old bread. It aint much, but it's tasty," she muttered.

Devery nodded eagerly, "Thank you, we appreciate it," she replied.

"Mmmhmm," the woman grumbled as she turned and pushed through the door to the kitchen, the warm scent of food wafting out towards Devery and Gabriel.

Devery relaxed, slumping against the bar for a moment before angling towards Gabriel, brows furrowed in frustration, "Do you have to piss off everyone?" she demanded, annoyance coloring her voice.

He smirked at her, "She's a crotchety old woman, it's hardly my fault she's angry," he replied flippantly.

Devery breathed heavily through her nose and shook her head, turning away from him, fighting the urge to slap him. They just had to make it through the storm…without killing each other.

She walked away from the bar and went to sit at one of the rickety tables, grateful to have a solid seat beneath her. Gabriel sauntered after her and collapsed, loose limbed, into the seat across from her, his gaze challenging hers.

She rolled her eyes and looked away, tugging at the ends of her scarf, trying to ignore his insistent gaze. She heard his soft breath of laughter and felt her ever present anger rise to the surface.

"What?" she demanded, turning to face him again, her eyes narrowing at the look on his face.

He shrugged and smirked at her, the look on his face burning into her, crawling beneath her skin and making her want to slap away until he was left with a welt and a reason to leave her well enough alone.

"You're a pain in the ass," she grumbled, running her fingers over the surface of the table, dutifully ignoring him.

Gabriel's hand shot out to snatch hers into a tight grip, not painful, but firm enough to hold her attention. Her gaze flew up to his face, her eyes bright with anger. His sparkled with amusement as he traced his thumb over her wrist, watching as her pupils dilated.

Devery fought to free herself from his grasp, exhaling sharply.

"Let me go," she demanded quietly, her free hand moving subtly for her knife at the small of her back.

"Make me," Gabriel taunted, his lips curved into a mocking smirk.

In a flash, her knife was flipping free from behind her back and slashing into the flesh of his forearm, faster than Gabriel could believe. A moment later the pain followed, as her knife flew away, the pain appeared, searing and hot, just like the blood that began to flow.

"Fuck!" he shouted, releasing her wrist like it was burning him, clamping his other hand around the wound, blood flowing between his fingers as he glared at her.

"I'll have none of that in my establishment. If yer gonna kill each other, do it outside where I don't gotta clean up the bodies," the older woman commented as she laid down two steaming bowls of stew before Devery and Gabriel.

Devery nodded her acknowledgement and thanks for the food, "Thank you, and I'm sorry. We had a-uh, disagreement. It won't happen again," she said firmly, glaring at Gabriel.

The woman glanced between them and harrumphed, shaking her head. She tossed a small brass key onto the table, "That storm aint lettin up anytime soon. You best stay here. Room is at the top of the stairs and on the right. Second door."

She stomped away before Devery could thank her or ask more about the room, leaving them to eat in sullen silence. Devery lifted her spoon and began eating, her brows shooting up in shock at the unexpectedly delectable taste of the stew. A few minutes later she was wiping her bowl clean with the last bite of bread, sighing in happiness as she popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly.

Reaching over for Gabriel's empty bowl she carried them to the bar and set them down gently, smiling faintly at the older woman. "This storm, it's unusual for the season," she murmured, glancing out the window at the snow and wind that howled and battered the buildings surrounding them.

The older woman nodded, frowning deeply, "Aint natural. It was sunny as a bird's song a few hours ago, and then out of nowhere, this howler shows up." She shrugged, "But then, what is natural these days?" she muttered, "Goddamn 8-balls invadin our bodies and those winged bastards ruling over us," she spat, emphasizing her words with a well placed hock of spittle onto the worn floor.

Devery bit back a smirk, almost wishing she could see what would happen if she told the woman that the archangel Gabriel was sitting at one of her tables. Instead she nodded sympathetically and made a narrow, angry face, "We're trying to find a place without the angelic scum, but it's getting harder and harder," she commiserated.

The older woman nodded an angry, solemn look on her face. "You'll be safe here; I don't stand for those kind here."

Devery sighed theatrically, smiling at her, "Thank you. If you don't mind, we'll retire upstairs," she said softly.

The woman cast a glance over Devery's shoulder and a lascivious gleam entered her eye, "Can't say as I blame you, he's certainly a looker," she murmured with a wicked, smoky laugh.

Devery choked and flushed, glancing quickly over her shoulder to see if Gabriel had heard, knowing his angelic senses were more powerful than a regular human's. He winked at both women and Devery whipped around, color rising in her throat, heat curling in her stomach.

The old woman chuckled and patted her arm, "He's certainly got eyes for you," she murmured.

Devery swallowed and nodded, "Doesn't mean a damn thing if he doesn't deserve me," she replied hollowly. The old woman studied her for a moment and then snorted, shaking her head.

"World's too short and ugly for all that business young lady. I had a man who used to look at me like that. Then his face was ripped off by those damn shark eyed monsters, and he didn't look at anyone like anything."

She wiped down the bar methodically and looked up at Devery, her eyes serious, "If you aint scared, you'll let that man in and let him love you," she murmured before bending down and grabbing something from beneath the bar.

A bottle of whiskey was placed firmly before Devery, thunking solidly against the wood, and the old woman eyed her and then Gabriel, "Liquid courage," she whispered with a faint smirk before disappearing swiftly into the kitchen.

Devery stared at the bottle for a long moment and then wrapped her slim fingers around the neck of the bottle, twisting the lid off to let the fumes waft out. She had never been one to need extra courage, but right now she found she needed the drink.

Lifting the bottle to her lips, she swallowed the amber liquid, her throat burning as the whiskey slid down, warming her from the inside out. Her eyes burned as she twisted the lid back on and walked back to the table, grabbing her pack and shouldering it.

Her fingers fumbled for a moment with the key and Gabriel's reached out to help her—she snatched her hand away, burying it in her pocket to hide the shaking in her fingers. Her eyes met his and she saw the burning desire there, making her fingers dig into the strap of her bag at her shoulder as she fought the urge to reach out and touch his cheekbones, so fine and angular they looked like they could cut her if she were to run her fingers over them

"I'm going to the room," she murmured, her voice barely audible, but Gabriel could hear her; could hear her heart beating rapidly in her chest, could see the tension in every line of her body, the desire in the expansion of her pupils and the way she looked at him.

He nodded and rose from his chair, following slowly after her, his steps heavy on the stairs as she ghosted on them ahead of him. The door to their room creaked open, the hall light spilling into the blackness within.

As her light illuminates the darkness within me…

He scoffed at his own poetic inner ramblings and stood aside, watching as she went to the fireplace, making a quick hand motion and a moment later a fire leapt up, filling the room with light and heat.

Shutting the door behind him he tossed his pack onto the floor and looked around, smirking faintly. The elderly proprietor clearly had a sense of humor.

The room had one bed, a nightstand with a lamp, the fireplace, and an attached bathroom. There was a small couch, a loveseat really, that was far too small for either of them to sleep on comfortably.

Devery looked around the room and sighed, shaking her head, "I'll go ask for another room for you," she murmured, turning towards the door.

Gabriel stepped in front of her, blocking the door, "We're adults, I think we can sleep in the same bed," he replied, "or can you not control yourself?" he asked tauntingly, smirking at her when she glared up at him.

Devery felt anger rippling through her at his suggestion, "Of course…this isn't about control Gabriel. That bed is a double, and you're not exactly a small man. I don't like sharing," she muttered, trying to worm past him to the door.

Gabriel grinned and wrapped a hand around her upper arm, whirling her around as she slipped past him, easily pushing her against the closed door, his form looming over her, "Neither do I," he murmured, his eyes dark.

His free hand curled around her hip, pulling her firmly against him as his mouth went to her ear, his lips brushing against the soft skin of her neck, "Though I could be convinced for you," he whispered before tugging her earlobe between his teeth.

She must have gone temporarily mad…that was it…that was why she wasn't pushing him away and punching him in the face. That was why she was moaning softly and winding her fingers through his hair and pushing at his shirt so she could feel the firm muscles at his waist…She gasped as his tongue darted out over her neck, his mouth closing over the skin as he sucked lightly, the sensation like fire, her pulse racing.

His hand at her waist trailed up to the buttons on her shirt, expertly plucking at them until it hung open, the air against her bare skin making her shiver. A shock went through her and her eyes flew open; her hand at his abdomen pushed firmly, sending him stumbling back, a grunt of surprise coming from his throat.

"Wha-?" he exclaimed, staring at her in surprise, desire clouding his gaze temporarily.

Devery shook her head and turned away, buttoning her shirt with shaking fingers, "I'm going to get a room for myself. You can have this one," she murmured. Taking a deep breath she steadied herself and reached out, wrapping her fingers around the cold metal of the door handle—

"Coward," Gabriel accused.

She paused and stared down at her hand, idly wondering if her scars would ever fade. Her shoulder lifted in a shrug. "Pot. Kettle." She pulled the door open with a wrench of her wrist and slid away without another word, leaving Gabriel to stare after her, a wounded look on his face.

Devery lay on her bed in her own room, freshly showered and stared up at the ceiling. The old woman hadn't fought her about getting an additional room, in fact, she hadn't said a word; she had simply handed over another key, a sad look in her eye.

Coward

She wasn't. She had fought more 8-balls and angels than any human and lived. No coward could claim that.

Coward

She wasn't. She had died and come back to life. She had dug herself out of her own grave for fuck's sake.

Coward

She had run away from her problems. From Miles saying no to going Vega. From trying to help Gabriel because it had gotten hard. From trying to stop Noma. From trying to stop Lucifer. From everything…

Because she was a coward.

Lifting the whiskey bottle she had stolen from Gabriel's room to her lips, she carefully swallowed more, enjoying the burn as it slid down her throat. She realized numbly she was getting drunk, but she didn't really care.

Time slipped by and the flames in the fireplace burned lower and lower until the room was almost completely shrouded in darkness. Her eyes fluttered softly and the bottle of whiskey slipped from her fingers to the floor as she rolled over, burying her face in the pillows.

Her soft snores filled the room soon after, and it was a blissful, dreamless sleep that gathered her in its arms, holding her tightly as the storm howled outside, battering the ruins of the town with the fury of hell.

Devery sat up gasping, a sheen of sweat covering her chest and forehead. The duvet tangled around her legs, trapping her, and she had the sensation of a terrible dream, but she could recall nothing.

Her mouth felt fuzzy and dry, and her head pounded uncomfortably. Wincing, she untangled herself and rolled out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom for a glass of cool water, splashing her face with water until she felt fresher.

She turned away from her reflection in the mirror and without pausing to think about what she was doing, walked softly through her room, opening the door quietly and went to Gabriel's door, pausing only momentarily before her knuckles descended to knock against the wood.

She stood, barefoot, outside his door, waiting. Long moments later the door creaked open and a shirtless, bleary eyed Gabriel stared at her. She looked solemnly up at him and frowned, opening her mouth to speak, but found herself mute.

Gabriel's eyes never left her face and she swallowed and tried again, "I am a coward. I've run away from all my problems, and I'd keep running if I could. I hate my life. I hate who I am. If I could change, I would. I would change everything about me," she explained softly, earnestly.

Gabriel studied her for a moment before stepping back and opening the door wider, inviting her silently to come in. She peered in and after a moment nodded briefly, stepping past him quickly to go sit on the loveseat.

Crossing her feet beneath her she watched him subtly as he shut the door and then turned to look at her, his eyes tired. The loveseat was too small for them both. With a sigh he yanked the pillows off the bed and tossed them on the floor, sitting down beside her, leaning against the loveseat to look up at her.

"What would you change?" he asked quietly, his dark eyes on hers, intent but not challenging.

"My mother dying. My grandfather. Miles. All of it."

Gabriel nodded slowly, "But not the angels invading?" he asked softly, incredulously.

She smiled faintly, "Of course that too." She shook her head and the smile faded, "I just want to know who I would be without all of this…bullshit I'm supposed to call life," she murmured.

She played with the frayed hem of her sleeve, her bare legs warmed by the fire burning close by. "We were poor, you know," she murmured, looking down at him, "my mom and I. I remember my sneakers having holes in them that she covered with tape and my clothes being patched until they fell apart. She worked two jobs just to make ends meet, but never complained."

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair and frowned softly, "And where do you think you would be if nothing had changed?" he asked.

Devery sighed and shook her head, "I don't know. I-I don't even know what I would want to be. It was never something I thought about because everything fell to shit so quickly," she murmured, faintly shocked.

Gabriel lifted a brow, "You must have wanted to be something as a child. A teacher, a lawyer, or an astronaut," he murmured, smiling faintly. Human achievements had always seemed so banal until he had met Devery and seen the things she was capable of.

Devery shook her head, thinking back to her childhood, "I guess…maybe I wanted to be a veterinarian?" she murmured softly, "I liked animals. I wanted to help the hurt ones," she said thoughtfully.

Gabriel tilted his head to lean against the worn fabric of the loveseat and smiled faintly, "You would do well at that," he replied softly.

She glanced at him sharply, "Why do you say that?" she demanded, her shoulders tensing.

Gabriel sighed and lifted a hand, wondering if she would ever be able to take a compliment from him. "Because you have a kindness, a gentleness, that's needed if you want to care for the injured and scared," he replied softly. His eyes softened as he spoke, "I saw it when you were with Jonas," he murmured.

A pain so sharp and acute shot through Devery's chest that she could barely breath and tears formed in her eyes. Jonas…someone else she had failed.

Exhaling shakily she brushed a hand under her eyes and looked solemnly at Gabriel, "I'm sorry. For Jonas. I should have stopped Noma when I had the chance in that tunnel, if I had she wouldn't have killed them and she wouldn't be destroying Alex's mind right now," she whispered.

Gabriel looked up at her in surprise and then shook his head, "You did everything you could. What happened with Jonas was not your fault, if anything it is mine. I was the one to release the dogs of heaven unto earth and begin all of this," he shook his head, a look of regret passing over his face.

"Look where it's gotten us," he murmured.

"Not where you hoped?" Devery asked softly, staring at him intently. He looked up at her and shook his head, his dark eyes sorrowful.

"No. I've become the monster that people whisper about when I used to be the exalted angel, sung about in hymns. My heart is stained with hate and rage, and I can feel the blood of billions soaking my hands. I won't ever be fit to stand before my father again," Gabriel answered hollowly, his gaze dark and penetrating as he stared at the flickering embers in the fireplace.

A shiver ran over Devery's skin at his plaintive words. Neither of them were what they wanted to be. Reaching out she laid a hand on his shoulder tentatively, her fingers cool against his skin, his firm muscles bunching then releasing as he adjusted to her touch.

"Your father is a dick. He refuses to help you, Michael, me, or humanity, regardless of the threat Lucifer poses. He won't tell me who my father is, just some horseshit about me being a Child of Lazarus, and he thinks this is all so amusing," she snarled softly.

Gabriel turned to look up at her, a gleam of interest in his eyes. "Child of Lazarus?" he murmured.

She nodded slowly, a sliver of worry sliding through her at the look on his face. "You know what they are?" she asked.

"Of course. Lazarus couldn't help but spread his seed far and wide after he rose, especially when he realized his own children could rise, as he could, from the dead. He lived nearly…two thousand years I believe?" Gabriel murmured, nodding thoughtfully.

Devery swallowed hard, "So, theoretically, he could be my dad?" she asked, her voice squeaking slightly.

Gabriel hesitated and then nodded, "It's possible. It's also possible one of his children is your father." He studied her for a moment and frowned softly, "I'm sorry I don't know more," he murmured.

Devery shook her head dismissively, "It's not important. It's just another thing about me I can't change. Like these," she said, running her fingers over the scars marring her legs, the scars that covered nearly every inch of her body, only her face had been spared.

Gabriel lifted a hand and slowly ran his fingers over her scars, his touch feather light. A shiver danced over her skin and her eyes met his as he spoke, "You wear them well. They tell a story, of a time you fell and rose again, stronger than before. This world doesn't need some alternate universe version of you Devery, it needs the you that has suffered, that has been thrown down and cut deeply, because that woman, her light is blinding, drowning out the darkness that threatens to engulf us."

His jaw tightened as he studied her and he glanced away sharply, "I need you to be you," he whispered.

Devery sat in shocked silence, unable to form thought or word. Never had she thought she would solace and reassurance in Gabriel. She had come to him out of some hidden desire, to reveal her darkest secret; she hated being some tortured chosen one, her choices taken from her, forced into combat and death practically in infancy.

She had expected mocking, laughter, and his casual smirks. Instead he had been kind, reassuring, warm. Stumbling to her feet she walked backwards to the door, "Uh, th-thanks," she whispered before turning and throwing the door open, hastening to her room, her heart thumping painfully in her chest.

Locking her door behind her she crawled beneath her icy sheets and shivered, her limbs aching from the cold that had permeated the room now that the fire had died. A quick thought and twitch of her hand brought the fire back to life, chasing the chill away.

She rolled over and pulled her sleeve up, running her fingers over the scars on her forearm, frowning faintly. She contemplated Gabriel's words as the room warmed and her lids grew heavy with sleep once more.

You're just a scar, a story I tell, such an ugly mark, but I wear it so well…she thought over and over again, her mantra as she slid into sleep's warm embrace.