Gabriel stared out the window in his room, rubbing a hand slowly over his jaw, a frown creasing his forehead. The storm had abated in the night, but now drifts of snow lay on the roads nearly hip high, making them impassable. There was no way they would be able to get out of the waystation until the dug the roads clear or found some other way out of the mess that Lucifer had created for them.
His mind turned slowly to the conversation he and Devery had had last night, their voices soft, it had been as if they spoke any louder some spell would be broken and everything would return to the way it had been between them—anger, fighting, and shouting.
A slow smirk spread across his lips—he didn't mind when they did fight, Devery was a glorious sight when she was in a fury; all blazing eyes, taut muscle and smooth dangerous attacks that he had to avoid if he didn't want to lose a limb.
The smirk faded slowly; he might enjoy fighting with her, but there had been something unusual about her mood when she had come to him last night. Pensive. She had been looking for absolution for her desire to be normal, something he had refused to give her, politely, stubbornly, carefully.
She was who she was, and there was no changing that now. But who he was…he hoped he could regain some of who he had been…the angel who had loved David, who had been a kind and dutiful brother, who had been a good son.
He wanted to be better than how he had been in the past, his soul ached for it, but habit pushed him towards foul, ugly inclinations, and he didn't know if he could break those patterns. With a noise of frustration he turned from the window, running a hand through his hair, his nails scraping against his skull.
He paced the short length of the room, itching for something to do, wanting to talk to Devery again as they had last night, worried she would slam the door in his face if he tried. His paces grew faster, more anxious until he finally strode to a halt beside the fireplace and slammed a hand against the wall, a growl of frustration escaping him.
His chest heaved with aggravation and nervous energy, anxiety making his skin itch, his head throbbing with too many thoughts. Shaking his head like a dog trying to shake away water, he tried to rid himself of the thoughts chasing each other, pressing his palms to his temples, a groan rumbling through his chest.
His hand lashed out again, slamming into the wood of the wall, and pain seared up his arm, blinding his mind. A gasp of relief slid from his lips and he crumpled to the floor, cradling his broken hand, blood running over the broken knuckles.
The door flew open and Devery strode in, sword drawn as she looked intently around the room for a foe to lay waste to. Her eyes finally landed on Gabriel, curled against the wall by the fireplace, blood streaming down his hand, his eyes closed and a look of agonized relief on his face.
She sheathed her sword and quickly went to him, crouching down to better see the wound on his hand. "Gabriel, what happened?" she murmured, not reaching out to touch him yet.
His body shuddered at her voice, his eyelids fluttering as he breathed out sharply, feeling as though a weight had slid from his shoulders.
"Gabriel?" she probed again softly, concern lacing her voice this time. She hadn't noticed before, but now as she looked at him closer she saw his skin was pale, sweaty and she could see his pulse thrumming in his throat.
He made a soft noise and parted his lips, preparing to speak. Inhaling slowly he breathed out slower and then started, "I…hit the wall," he explained, his eyes fluttering open slowly to stare at the floor by her bare foot, refusing to meet her gaze.
Devery frowned, "Why? Did something attack you? Did Lucifer send someone?" she asked worriedly. If he had, she needed to search for it, to know what to look for. She hadn't ever seen him like this, he looked…terrified.
Gabriel shook his head faintly, "No."
Devery stared at him in frustration; his refusal to explain made it hard to feel sympathy for his injury when he had no reason for it. "Then what the hell happened?" she demanded.
His chin dropped lower and his breathing sped up. He mumbled something she wasn't able to hear, the words garbled by his short gasps of air.
Devery shook her head, "Gabriel, I can't-I can't understand you. What's wrong? Why-?" she stared at him and realization hit her like a brick when all of his symptoms clicked together in her mind as she watched him struggle to breath normally.
"You had a panic attack…" she whispered, rocking back on her heels, her brows furrowing in shock. Of all the people…she would never picture Gabriel having a panic attack.
His head bobbed in agreement as he took a sharp breath and exhaled hard, still trying to breath normally.
Devery suddenly found herself awash in sympathy. When she was still young she had been prone to similar attacks; the trauma of losing her family, the apocalypse, trying to understand that Miles was her new family…it was all too much and she would inexplicably panic, unable to move, think, or breathe.
Luckily Miles had been a quick study and had figured out how to help her.
Devery sighed and sat on the floor beside Gabriel, tugging gently on his uninjured arm until she had pulled him away from the wall far enough that she could slide behind him and settle her legs on either side of his body.
Her lean arms wrapped around his torso, forcing his arms to cross over his body as she pulled him back against her, his head cradled into her neck as she made a soft hushing noise, breathing steadily, in…out…in…out.
She felt him struggle to match her breaths, felt his body shuddering with panic and fear, and had to bite back tears, remembering her own episodes, her childhood fears and sorrows rushing back like a tidal wave.
Taking deep steady breaths, she whispered to him, "It's ok Gabriel, its ok. Whatever happens, I'm here, I promise. You're ok," she reassured him, murmuring the same words Miles had used with her, not entirely sure either of them would be ok, or if she meant what she said when she told him she would be there for him no matter what.
How could anyone make a promise like that and manage to keep it in a world like this?
Slowly she lifted her hand and ran her fingers through his hair, gently stroking his temples, feeling his heartbeat slow against her chest, his breathing steadying and brushing softly against the skin of her neck.
Gabriel's eyes were screwed shut, trapping the tears inside as he fought the urge to release them, his breath stuttering against Devery's skin. "It's ok Gabriel," she whispered once more and he shuddered, allowing the dam to break, the tears slipping down his face silently.
He wept for everything he had lost, for everything he had done, and all he had become.
Devery felt Gabriel shudder in her arms and tilted her chin, her eyes widening at the sight of tears streaming down his face, grief screwing his face into a mask of pain and sorrow. She silently wiped his face and held him until his tears stopped his breath hot against her skin.
Gabriel took a long, unsteady breath and sat up slowly, feeling Devery's arms slide from around him felt like a kind of loss, but when he turned towards her he found her eyes clear and filled with empathy, a ghost of a smile on her lips.
He was barely aware of the pain in his hand but when he looked down at it he could see there was dried blood covering his arm, and fresh blood oozed from the wounds on his knuckles when he tried to flex and bend his fingers.
Wincing at the pain he settled it back into his lap and looked back up at Devery, shame flushing his cheeks. "I-I don't…" he stuttered and looked away; he couldn't look at her while he thanked her.
"I don't know why you helped me, but thank you," he whispered, his voice raw and low.
Devery watched him for a moment, her own emotions a mess and struggled to find the right words. After another long moment she reached down and laid her hand over his injured one, suffusing it with healing power.
Warm light spread between her fingers as she spoke, "Because I know what you were feeling. I used to have panic attacks, after my family died and Miles took me in. He would hold me, just like that, until I was calm and felt safe again."
As the light faded from between their hands Gabriel felt the pain disappear, yet her hand remained on his, her fingers curling around his. His eyes lifted to hers and she smiled sadly, "Do you know what triggered it?" she murmured softly.
He swallowed hard and shook his head, "I—don't…" he hesitated and then nodded slowly, "I wanted to talk to you," his eyes darted to her face and then away as he continued, "but I thought you wouldn't want to, that you might hate me…" he shook his head, "You should after everything I've done. I do," he muttered harshly.
Devery winced at the self loathing in his voice and sighed, "I…I don't hate you Gabriel." He scoffed and she stiffened her jaw, reaching out to grasp his chin and force it gently up, making his eyes meet hers.
"Gabriel. I do not hate you," she repeated firmly. She smirked faintly, "You frustrate the hell out of me, and I…I have very conflicted feelings about the things you've done to me, and to humanity, but I don't hate you."
As she spoke, she realized she was telling the truth. She wasn't sure when it had become true, but she didn't hate him.
She sighed and loosened her grip on his chin, cupping it gently, her thumb skimming across his cheek, her brow furrowing, "I don't know what to make of you Gabriel, and that's hard for me. I figure people out; I solve them, it's what I've done to survive," she murmured, shaking her head gently in confusion, "but now, I don't know what to do with you."
Gabriel found himself leaning into her touch, craving more. "You're hardly an open book," he replied softly, a gentle wryness to his voice. Her soft laughter lit something inside him, warming him.
Devery nodded and smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with good humor. There was something warm in his eyes as he looked back at her and it sent a shiver over her skin. She realized she was still touching him, her hand was cupping his cheek and she snatched it away, leaning back abruptly, clearing her throat and looking away.
Gabriel felt her retreat like a knife in the stomach. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, breathing in the scent of her skin, still close enough for him to reach out and touch if he dared, and looked up at her slowly.
She shook her head and stood, turning to face the window, staring out at the snow lying on the ground. He rose slowly and stood behind her, watching their reflections, his standing over her like a dark shadow, trying to wrap around her.
Her eyes studied the land outside the window carefully, avoiding his gaze in the reflection. "We won't be able to leave on bikes," she murmured.
He nodded and said nothing, leaving her silence to fill.
Her fingers trailed over the icy pane, drawing images in the frost, figures dancing, and he imagined what it would be like to hold her in his arms and dance, to feel her laugh against him, to make love to her.
"I can get rid of the snow, it'll just take some energy," she murmured, "Melting it should do the trick," she said thoughtfully.
"What about the woman?" he replied.
"What about her?"
"She's certain to notice a few tons of snow suddenly melting in a blaze of fire," Gabriel replied dryly.
"We won't see her again, it doesn't matter," Devery replied with a shrug.
Gabriel nodded and stared at her face in the window, she was studiously calm, expressionless. Sighing, he turned away and went to the fire, staring into the flames. Her footsteps were light behind him as she walked away and a moment later he heard the door open.
He felt her pause, heard her breathe as his heart beat, thump, thump, thump in his chest.
"I'm, I'm sorry Gabriel," she whispered. He looked up at her still form and saw she wasn't looking at him, but down at her toes, her brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to ask for what and she spoke again, "I'm sorry I can't be…more," she whispered in a rush before hurrying out and closing the door.
He stood staring at where she had been, the heat of the fire searing his back, but he remained rooted to the spot for far too long.
Devery dressed for the cold outside, her insides numb. Gabriel's panic attack and subsequent breakdown had been shocking, like a bucket of ice water on her emotions; she didn't know what or how to feel.
Tromping down the stairs she went out the back door, into the garage where the bikes were and checked to make sure the storm winds hadn't sent any debris damage their way. When she was satisfied she pulled her scarf up around her face until just her eyes were bare and then pulled her goggles down, protecting them from the bright white light bouncing off the snow.
Looking around at the huge snow drifts she sighed heavily, this would take an enormous amount of power. Studying the white powder she frowned…perhaps burning it away wasn't the wisest course.
Summoning her power she brought a hot air down and pushed, forcing the snow drift in front of her forwards, melting it slowly at first, then more rapidly as steam formed. She walked forward, melting more snow as she went, expanding the cloud of hot air and the amount of snow she was melting until it stretch two blocks and sweat began to run down her spine from the effort she was expending.
She continued walking, ignoring the headache that began clawing at her temples, melting snow for nearly a mile around the waystation until the roads were clear enough that the bikes could pass. Anymore could be done as they rode.
She walked back to the waystation, her pulse pounding in her skull, black spots flashing across her vision and the taste of iron awash in her mouth. As she shoved the door to the waystation open she heard the sound of a shotgun racking and paused, waiting for the black spots to clear from her vision.
The old woman had a sawed off pointed at her chest and a narrow, hateful look on her face. "Demon," she accused, hissing the word.
Devery shook her head, "Other place," she replied tiredly.
The woman's brow furrowed and she spat before replying angrily, "The hell does that mean?"
"Heaven," Devery sighed, her shoulders slumping under the migraine that was sprawling through her brain, making each word an effort and the light streaming in through the windows scratch against her retinas like glass.
The old woman pointed the shotgun more firmly at her face, "Even better," she snarled.
Devery didn't actually see what happened, but she suddenly found herself on the floor, her cheek pressed against the old wood grain, watching hazily as Gabriel slammed the woman's head into the floor twice before wrestling the shotgun away, his black wings spread over them like an ebony halo.
He turned from the old woman and came to her, crouching down beside her, the shotgun in one hand. Amused concern twisted his lips, "Thought you were too bad ass to be taken out by a crotchety old woman," he murmured as he slid an arm under her neck, the other, still holding the shotgun, going under her knees to lift her carefully up off the ground.
Her eyes slid shut as he carried her up the stairs, her entire body on fire with pain.
"She didn't…" Devery whispered, "too much power," she murmured disjointedly.
Gabriel nodded and laid her down on her bed, "I saw. So did she. Rest, and I'll take care of the old biddie," he whispered, smiling when he saw she was already asleep.
As he strode downstairs to tie up the old woman, he frowned, worry shooting though him once more. He had known Devery using her powers in front of the old woman was a bad idea, but hadn't realized it would take such a toll on her physically.
Stepping into the hallway he came to an abrupt halt.
The old woman was gone.
His frown deepened and he gripped the shotgun tighter, creeping towards the corner, listening for her heartbeat, wondering how a human could have woken from unconsciousness so quickly, especially an elderly human.
He moved quickly through the common room, searching the kitchen and then the living quarters that appeared to belong to the woman. Opening her closet he stumbled back, choking on the smell of decay.
Inside was the desiccated body of a man, hunched and curled in death.
Gabriel leaned in and studied him for a moment before turning away and shutting the door, having seen enough. The woman had clearly killed the man and taken over the running of the waystation with the intent of harming Devery, and possibly himself.
She was an agent of Lucifer's, there was no doubt, and she was likely on her way back to her master.
When Devery woke the light outside the windows had died and the sky was a bruised color, reminding her of how her head felt as she tried to sit up. Rubbing a hand over her neck she groaned, feeling her stomach flip and roll.
A wave of nausea slid through her and she stumbled from the bed, barely making it to the bathroom in time to vomit, the acid burning her throat. She coughed and held her hair back as she vomited again, her eyes watering and head pounding.
Suddenly a large hand gently replaced her own, holding her hair as another cupped the back of her neck. "Breathe, that's it, breathe," Gabriel encouraged.
If the situation hadn't been so painful, it would have been hilarious.
As her stomach emptied the pounding in her head lessened and she sank back onto her haunches, breathing shakily, her eyes watering as she ran a hand over her face. Gabriel's hand slid from her neck smoothly, the rough pads of his fingers scraping against the delicate skin of her shoulder before disappearing.
"Reaction to using your powers?" he murmured as he sat on the edge of the tub, stretching his long, powerful legs out in front of him. Devery nodded and winced as her head throbbed, shifting so she could lean back against the cool tiling of the wall.
Gabriel leaned forward and plucked her washcloth from the rack, turning the knob of the tub, soaking it in icy water for a moment before wringing it out and shutting off the water. Shifting towards her he gently held the wet fabric to her forehead, "The old woman is gone," he murmured.
Cold droplets of water ran down her cheeks as she glanced up at him through slitted eyes, "What?" she rasped out, "what do you mean?" she demanded.
He slid the washcloth lower; down across her cheek and then back to lay across her neck before he spoke, "She's gone. I found a body of a man in her closet; he was probably the original manager of this place and she killed him, took his place. She was Lucifer's," he explained softly.
Devery scowled and lifted a hand to cover her eyes, her voice muffled from behind her hand, "I'm getting really sick of your long lost brother," she muttered.
"You and me both," Gabriel replied bitterly, still watching her closely, watching as color slowly suffused back into her cheeks. She no longer looked as pale as the tile next to her cheek, as though she might pass out again and simply not wake this time.
The idea of that scared him more than he liked, and the degree to which he found himself dependent upon her made him uncomfortable; in one heartbeat he wanted to make a snide, cutting remark and leave her on the bathroom floor weeping, as he normally would have, but in the next beat he wanted to gather her up in his arms as he had earlier and make sure she was safe, whole.
It was the most awkward of places to be, one foot in and the other out, each part of him demanding something else; pain, affection, anger, joy…and he couldn't do more than sit here with her until the voices within him settled.
Devery lifted the cool cloth from her neck and wiped her face, sighing in relief and exhaustion. She might have slept for hours, but her body still felt like shit, and her head felt worse. Slowly she struggled to her feet, holding tightly to Gabriel's arm when he moved to her side, helping her up.
"I have painkillers in my bag, I need to take some and lay down again," she murmured, her head spinning. Gabriel wrapped an arm around her waist as she swayed and took the majority of her weight, practically lifting her into the bed.
She watched as he crouched down and went through her bag, examining her pill bottles until he held up two, "Which one?" he asked, "They're both painkillers, if I remember correctly," he murmured.
She squinted at the labels and shook her head, unable to read the fine print from the distance. He peered at the labels and read them to her, "Oxycontin…and…hydrocodone?" he asked.
"Oxy" Devery replied, collapsing back against the pillows, every movement making her…everything…hurt. She heard Gabriel rattling the pills and a moment later his hand pressed against hers, and two pills slid into her palm.
Without looking she popped them into her mouth and accepted the glass of water he handed her, sipping it before handing it back. Cracking an eye open she watched as Gabriel straightened her pack and then shut her curtains, blocking out any strain of light that might have entered.
"Thanks," she whispered, startling him.
He turned and found her staring at him and nodded, "It's no problem. You should rest," he murmured, walking softly to the door, "I'll keep watch."
Her eyes were already growing heavy as she watched him step into the hallway, the faint light shrouding him for a moment as he stood watching her, his large muscular form like an impenetrable statue, guarding her.
As her eyes fluttered shut some warm hazy part of her brain whispered what a good idea it would have been if Gabriel had stayed with her, had laid down with her and held her, had protected her by being close to her.
That was just…just….her brain couldn't complete the thought before the oxy kicked in and she slipped away into a narcotic sleep, her pain erased.
The motorcycles' engines buzzed as they pulled into the refill stop, an ordinary two story house set in a copse of trees with a large clearing in front and a smaller yard in the rear. Gabriel killed his engine and looked around in amusement, "Welcome to paradise," he murmured.
Devery shot him a wry look, "Maybe before, but now…" she trailed off, walking quickly up the creaking, half rotten steps and pushed the door open. There was a table with three legs in the kitchen and the linoleum was peeling up from the floor, yellowed and rotten.
Gabriel grimaced, definitely not paradise. "So, where are the supplies?" he asked softly, not wanting to raise his voice.
Devery waved a hand and led him to the living room, pulling away floorboards to reveal a food stash beneath that was significant enough to be impressive.
"How has no one found this?" Gabriel asked, confused and amazed.
Devery shrugged, "We moved the food around the house. There're plenty of hiding spots in here. Come on," she ordered, reaching down to fill her bag and waving at him to do the same. They had plans to fill their bags and be back on the road quickly.
After their detour at the waystation they didn't want to delay any longer, for all they knew, Lucifer's minions were finding a way to attack Michael.
When both of their bags had been filled they replaced the floor boards and adjusted the rotting remains of the couch over them, assuring that if anyone came looking, they wouldn't notice anything out of the ordinary.
As they sped back to the bunker Devery wondered what they were going to do now. Things had changed radically between them, and yet, nothing had changed. They still needed to stop Lucifer, and somehow save Alex.
Yet she still didn't know what that meant, or how to go about doing it. If anything, she was more confused now than she had been before. Shaking her head, she revved her engine and drove faster towards home, eager for the safety the bunker provided.
Michael heard the growl of the motorcycles and peered at the surveillance monitors for a moment before unlocking the bunker door and striding out to greet his brother and Devery. They had been gone almost five days, and with each passing hour that they had been overdue his anxiety had grown until he had begun to consider going after them, despite the risks.
Now as he watched them toss the bags of supplies aside and store the motorcycles, he noted an air of ease between them, though hardly a word passed as they worked. Devery gathered her bag after locking up her bike and smiled tiredly at him, walking forward to embrace him, her hug as welcome as it was surprising.
"I see you didn't murder each other," he murmured as she pulled back.
Her laugh was sharp, but her grin remained bright, "Hardly. No, we had other things to worry about," she replied, stepping past him to saunter into the bunker and begin unloading her stash of supplies.
Gabriel watched her go as he approached his brother, a faint smirk on his lips, "Pleased to see me brother?" he murmured teasingly.
"Always," Michael responded honestly, wrapping his arm around Gabriel's shoulders in a loose hug before guiding him into the bunker. "What's this I understand about you two getting along?" he asked softly.
Gabriel's eyes flickered to Devery and he began explaining to Michael how the strange storm had cropped up, they had been trapped, Devery had freed them, the old woman had threatened her and then disappeared…
"She's an agent of Lucifer's," Michael interrupted furiously.
Gabriel smirked, "Yes brother dearest, we figured that out as well."
Michael narrowed his eyes at Gabriel's sarcasm and waited impatiently as he summarized the rest of their journey. "Hmmph, well, I don't think we've heard the last of Lucifer's agents," Michael murmured.
"I think we need to take the fight to them," Devery interrupted, tossing her empty duffle bag onto the kitchen counter.
Gabriel frowned at her, "What do you mean?" he asked.
She rolled her eyes, "I mean we can't just sit here all winter and hope that Lucifer doesn't corrupt Alex fully or form a corporeal body and start taking over the earth, can we?" she snapped, brushing hair back from her face as she leaned against the counter.
Michael nodded, "Exactly. We need a plan. We need to find a way to stop him."
"How do we stop someone who isn't even a person?" Devery asked, her lips turned down in a deep frown, "He doesn't have a body, how do you kill him?" she wondered.
Gabriel and Michael exchanged a look, they weren't certain either how they would stop Lucifer, they just knew that it had to happen. Devery caught the look that passed between them and shook her head, "Oh good, I'm so glad that the two most powerful archangels don't have a fucking clue either. That's really reassuring," she snapped sarcastically.
Shaking her head she leaned away from the counter and scooped up her pack, striding quickly back the hall to her rooms, shutting the door softly behind her. Tossing her pack on the floor beside her bed she toed off her boots and flopped back against the bed, sighing in relief.
Her eyes drifted closed in exhaustion, every muscle in her body still tense and sore from the long ride home and the residual strain on her body from her power usage. The oxy may have done its work getting rid of most of the pain, but the magical aftershocks she was experiencing weren't something that modern medicine could handle it seemed.
What she needed was sleep….
The crash of something large slamming into the ground followed by shouting roused her an indeterminate time later, sending her shooting to her feet, searching for the cause. Her fingers instantly wound around the pommel of her swords, sliding them free from their sheaths, her feet silent on the floors as she crept forward, the sound of a struggle reaching her.
Shrieks and snarling filled the bunker and suddenly gunfire broke through the chaos, Devery tilted her head, identifying the weapon as a shotgun by the sound it made as it chambered another round.
She crept slowly towards the kitchen—the epicenter of the noise—and a skittering noise behind her send a shiver over her spine. Rasping breathing made her fingers clench on her sword and a breath later she whirled, skewering the 8-ball that had attempted to sneak up on her, rusty knife in hand.
Her swords stuck straight through his abdomen, piercing his spine; with a sharp wrist movement she yanked them free and turned, dropping the body and jogging towards the sounds of combat. 8-balls got in the bunker…but how? Her mind raced to try and figure out what had happened.
The last time it had happened, she had found a weak spot in one of the air vents and had reinforced it promptly until only an archangel…her feet stuttered as she rounded the corner, cold realization flooding her.
Michael was grappling with three 8-balls while two more lay dead at his feet, reassuring her of his skill. Her gaze flew to the other end of the kitchen where Gabriel was circling…Noma.
"Bitch" Devery hissed, her eyes narrowing. Lucifer had sent her with legions to try and destroy them, and Devery watched as she and Gabriel fought, slowly slicing each other to ribbons, their bright blood flashing to the cold concrete floor.
Michael beheaded one of the 8-balls and shouted in pain as the other two forced him back, their rusty blades slicing into his arm and thigh. Cursing, Devery leapt forward and decapitated both 8-balls, moving with fluid grace as she flicked her sword, spattering blood onto the floor.
Michael grimaced and rose, yanking one of the knives that had lodged into his shoulder out and tossing it aside. "Thank you," he murmured gratefully.
Devery nodded and laid a hand on his wound, sending a rush of healing power through it and his other wounds in a blaze that left him momentarily blinded by white light and weak kneed. As the light cleared he felt the weakness and pain vanish from his body, replaced by a vitality that felt like it came straight from heaven.
Devery turned towards Noma and Gabriel and frowned when she saw Gabriel struggling. "She shouldn't have the upper hand on him," she muttered to Michael, confused and angry.
Shaking his head, Michael gripped his own sword tighter, preparing to step forward to help his brother, "She should not. She is of a lower class of angel. Lucifer must be giving her strength," he snarled.
Devery scowled and restrained him with a hand, "Let me," she growled, and then strode forward, approaching the dueling angels carefully. Noma's back was to her and if she could strike quickly, she could kill her with one swift blow…
Inhaling softly, she stepped forward, angling her sword so she would sever Noma's spine and kill her at once.
Noma lunged forward and spread her wings, knocking Devery backwards, sending her sprawling. She rolled and recovered quickly, but not quickly enough, watching in slow horror as Noma pinned Gabriel against the wall and slid her sword into his stomach and twisted, glancing over at Devery and Michael to make sure they were watching.
Devery would never forget the raw, animalistic noise Michael made at the sight of his brother impaled and dying, blood spilling from his lips, nor would she forget the feeling of the air leaving her lungs, unable to speak, scream, or breathe.
Noma smirked and ripped the sword free, letting Gabriel collapse to the floor before she stepped away and like a switch, Devery felt a tidal wave of rage crash through her, nearly blinding her. Her feet carried her forwards as Noma fled, chasing after the angel, murder in her heart.
"Devery!"
Michael's desperate plea brought her short, her heart torn. She watched Noma spread her wings and fly into the sky and bit back a scream, wanting to rip her to pieces. But she couldn't ignore Michael's frantic calls for her help.
Sprinting back into the bunker she skidded to her knees at Gabriel's side, his blood soaking into her jeans as she ripped open his shirt to look at the damage. She could feel his skin was already growing cold and pale…not good.
"Can you feel this?" she prompted, squeezing his thigh, peering into his ghostly face for a response.
Gabriel's lips were growing pale and bluish and he could barely shake his head no, but his mouth curved into a smile, "Wish…I…could," he gasped, his chest stuttering in pain, his lungs bubbling.
Devery nodded, "I know, me too," she murmured.
"What does that mean?" Michael demanded.
"His spine is severed. He's losing too much blood." She looked up at him and shook her head, "He's in bad shape," she murmured.
Michael glared at her, "Save him" he ordered.
Her eyes narrowed, "No shit. I just want you to know, in case it doesn't work, that he's in bad shape, and I did everything I could," she snapped. Turning back to Gabriel she took a deep breath and smiled faintly, "You're not going anywhere," she whispered.
Laying her hand flat against his chest she closed her eyes and let her power flow out, pushing it into his body, letting it fill him until a bright glow surrounded both their forms. She felt his heartbeat grow weaker under her palm and frowned, "No," she whispered.
Concentrating harder, she pushed more power into him, grinning when she felt his heart beat faster.
Her own pulse thrummed and her head began to pound, but she shoved them aside as annoyances, she had to concentrate on healing Gabriel.
Beneath her hand his body convulsed, seizures paralyzing and strangling him as his body went into shock.
"No, no, no, no!" she whispered, shoving more power into the healing desperately.
Her skull ached like it was in a vice.
Gabriel's pulse raced like an engine, out of control and too fast. "Come on," she pleaded, focusing her energy on his heart, leaving the rest of her power to seal his wounds. If she couldn't control this…
His heart thundered and skipped, then stopped.
"No!"
Devery's fingers squeezed his chest and her fingers sunk into his flesh as her power surged, sending shock waves into his heart, pulse after pulse, trying to revive flesh that was somewhere between living and dead.
Her stomach turned and her skull crawled with fire, her heart pounding like a rabbit's. Spots covered her vision as power surged through her. She didn't have much left…
With a noise like a drum bursting, the bright light surrounding Devery and Gabriel imploded sharply and then burst out, knocking Michael on his back.
Devery collapsed into darkness, her body slumped against Gabriel's, and once more, stillness settled over the bunker.