"And unclean spirits, when they saw him, fell down before him, and cried."
- Mark, 3:11
The first time they had met was a distant memory for Barbiel. Their soul had shined brighter than any he'd ever seen before. A normal human soul was a blank slate, bursting with colours when their emotions shone through. Some souls were black, twisted and filled with the dull tones of grief and despair. These were the souls that angels most often dealt with – the souls of those who fought evil, who were evil. Although these souls opposed one another, they were so similar, so alike, that they may as well have been fighting for the same purpose.
Their soul was bright blue. Dazzling, like a summer ocean, cresting with gentle waves, falling softly onto golden sand. Their name, that first meeting, was irrelevant. Their relationship changed every time they met. The first time, they'd been friends. The second, his soul mate had appeared as a young boy, a soul in need of parental love and care. Then, Barbiel had acted as an older sibling. Time and time again, Barbiel had been what the soul had needed – a father, a brother, a friend. He had used many names; Baird, Baldwin, Belinda, Bailey. His appearance had changed as he'd shed each vessel. For centuries, their companionship had continued almost innocently. But Barbiel knew that he couldn't go on this way. This soul, it consumed him. He wandered Earth searching for it, looking for its beauty.
After two centuries, they met for the final time in London. The year was 1940, and fear was thick in the air. It clouded Barbiel's senses. Almost every soul was black, twisted and aching with grief. Then, one day, walking through the streets of the city, he felt its presence. This time, they were a young woman, barely nineteen, slender and slight, vulnerable but with strength behind those blue eyes that he'd come to know so well. Those eyes always remained the same; a portal that enabled mortals to see her soul.
As it always happened, their eyes met. Of course, she didn't remember him, not like he remembered her. But there was always a spark of recognition, something that propelled her forward, forced her to smile at the tall blonde stranger wearing a neat suit. His face was cleanly shaven and his green eyes were friendly. She knew those eyes, yet she didn't know where from. Spurred on by his handsome features and kind exterior, Katherine greeted him and learnt that his name was Benjamin.
There was something otherworldly about him, thought it didn't frighten her. It was early 1940 and there were plenty of other things that should terrify her. However, she found that the events of the war were far from her mind when she was around her darling Benjamin, who treated her to simple, sweet dates at the beach, the ice cream parlour, and various other locations. It was the theatre that she loved the most, however, and he was sure to take her to a show every fortnight. How he could afford it, she did not know, but she didn't question what he did for her. She only loved him and he loved her in return.
Meanwhile, things weren't so simple for Barbiel. Unlike his soul mate, he understood the repercussions of their actions. Angels were not meant to fall in love with humans. If he dared to make love to her – and he wanted to so badly – he would be cast down from heaven and they would surely meet fast ends. His brothers warned him to stay away, and he tried, he really did, but her doe eyes and pureness of heart guided him to betray his Father and Heaven. He proposed to her just three months after their first meeting, and they lay together the night of their wedding. For five months they lived together happily. Barbiel continued to ignore the countless warnings that the other angels gave him.
Katherine wanted a baby so dearly. She prayed every night for his child to grow inside of her. Barbiel knew that her praying was useless; his Father would not listen to her.
The Blitz on London commenced a month later. Feeling that it was the right thing to do, Katherine volunteered for the Queen Alexandra's Royal Army Nursing Corps. She was sent to the Western Front, much to Barbiel's discomfort. He followed her there, watched over her without the comfort of his vessel. He watched as countless soldiers lost their lives, for the first time questioning why his Father didn't put a stop to this mass murdering.
His brothers felt his faith fading over time as he watched from his perch in Heaven.
Katherine saw things that changed her sparkling soul from glistening blue to deep black, wretched and vile. She became a new person, twisted by the fear and hopelessness surrounding her. On the eleventh of August, 1941, the hospice that Katherine was stationed at was stormed by German troops. She died along with the three other Nurses who were unfortunate enough to be there.
The death of his soul mate had been something that Barbiel had witnessed many times before. But to know that, this time, it had been the work of his brothers pushed him over the edge. His faith shattered, he had renounced his loyalty to God and was cast down from Heaven. He had lived as one of the Fallen for forty years, forever moving to keep his unchanging appearance unsuspicious. When the war ended and the world rejoiced, he travelled to the United States of America.
He was in Philadelphia in 1986 when he saw his soul mate once more. This time, the soul appeared as a middle-aged man. The man sat out the front of a swamped hospital, his body covered in purple sores, his limbs frail and his head covered in a moth-eaten beanie, shivering when his bare skin was brushed by the gentle wind. His soul was pure once more, although he was plagued by a new disease, a disease that humans were calling AIDs.
Barbiel knew, then, that his actions had affected his soul mate's existence. He quickly left before the soul could see him. He prayed for his brothers to come to him and to hear him out. After many days and many nights, they did. Eventually, they forgave him. He would have one more chance to prove his faith to the Lord.
He knew, now, that his purpose in life was not to love – but to serve God. He had been foolish, selfish in his previous actions. He had given up his vessel – and the name Benjamin, a name that he had clung to so helplessly – and returned home. He watched his soul mate perish once more, revered by society for loving someone of his own gender. It was ironic, Barbiel thought, that he himself was an angel who did not discriminate in this way. He realised that he would love that soul no matter what body it appeared in.
And then he pushed that thought from his mind forever.
He had heard it again, though, when the human named Rachel had begged for him to resurrect her friend. Rachel was irrelevant to the grand spectrum of things. If she had died, he would not have resurrected her either. It was only the man. He was important.
But, really, wasn't every life important?
Puck hated hospital food. He hated annoying, pushy nurses who tried to get his phone number at every damn opportunity. He hated doctors who poked and prodded him when he was obviously in pain. But most of all, he hated that he was perfectly fine whilst the rest of the hunters from the Roadhouse were most likely injured or worse… dead.
And he was alone.
Rachel had offered to stay, but of course he'd wanted her to leave. She wasn't exactly holding it together too well. He could see beyond her dry, red eyes and rigid posture. Those eyes were aching to cry and those shoulders just wanted to slump.
Howard had left hours ago. It had been him who had found them at the side of the road, Sam's truck bent around a large tree, smoke rising from the crumpled bonnet. Apparently the bastard had also been attacked. Still, he and his truck had escaped the worst of it. He'd been left with a sprained wrist and a dented back door. He drove them to the Lima General Hospital and went on to locate the rest of the hunting party.
They hadn't heard anything from Sam yet.
He's probably dead, Puck told himself. He didn't bother to deny this, as Sam would have denied Puck's demise if their positions had been reversed. They were too different.
Puck didn't know what he would do if Sam was dead. Would he cry as Rachel had cried when they'd had no choice but to leave Quinn's body behind in in the truck? Or would he remain silent and stoic as his father had always done in these sorts of situations? He would probably do the latter. Puck wasn't new to the idea of death. He was far from new to it.
"Mr Puckerman?"
He lifted his throbbing head to stare, annoyed, at the middle-aged nurse standing in the doorway. He'd somehow acquired his own room – he perceived this to be of Rachel's doing – even though he only appeared to have a concussion. They wanted to keep him in overnight just to make sure that everything was functioning normally.
"Yeah?" He grunted, scratching his 'hawk. At least this nurse wasn't trying to hit on him. She most likely had a husband and kids back home.
"You have a visitor. Would you like to see them?"
Puzzled, Puck raised his eyebrows and dropped his hand. "Who is it?"
The nurse looked down at the clipboard in her hand. Puck noted for the first time that her eyes were rather glassy. He was suddenly anxious. "I… I'm really sorry, Mr Puckerman, excuse my unprofessionalism… but I'm not exactly sure." Her reflective eyes stared into his own. She seemed lost, unsure of what she was doing all of a sudden.
His fingers flexed under his white bed sheets, looking for a weapon that he didn't have. They'd had to leave all of their weaponry in Howard's car as to not cause suspicion when they'd entered the E.R. "Why don't you go and ask them again?" He suggested, his eyes surveying the room for possible exits. As soon as she was gone, he would leave. He'd contact Ellen as soon as possible and he'd get the fuck out of dodge.
The nurse smiled slowly, although it didn't reach her eyes. "Y-yes. I will-"
"That won't be necessary."
Puck leapt out of his bed as a short man in a business suit entered the room and placed his hand against the nurse's forehead. Her eyes flickered shut as her shoulders slumped and she fell to the floor. The man, without even blinking, went to shut the door behind him. Puck was out of the bed in seconds, wearing only a hospital gown and feeling rather ridiculous as he flung his arm back and his muscles tensed.
His fist connected with the man's chiselled features. There was no familiar crunch, however, as it did so. The man did not falter. Instead, he simply chuckled before dodging Puck's next blow. Puck struggled to fight the man – no, the demon.
Suddenly, just as he was about to deliver another strong punch to the stomach, the man finally made his move. His hands connected with Puck's shoulders as he pushed him backwards, sending him flying into the metal structure of the hospital bed. Puck's neck snapped backwards and his head connected with the hard metal, sending white-hot pain all over his tired body.
"Stop," the man instructed him. Fuck no, Puck thought, struggling to stand up once again as his head spun. Instead, he found that he couldn't move. "It will do you no good use to fight me."
Puck wouldn't give up. He tried to move his arms with all of his might, no matter how useless it was. His vision was blurry and for the first time he thought that it had probably been a good idea to take him to the hospital.
"It's just a concussion," the man told him as he knelt before him, his hands clasped in his lap. "I can fix it if you promise not to attack me again."
"Touch me and die," Puck snarled through his teeth.
The man in the suit sighed and dragged a hand over his face. Finally, after a moments silence, he opened his mouth to speak once more. "I'm Blaine."
"Do I look like I care?"
Blaine didn't look annoyed. In fact, he looked almost humoured. "You're right. But I'm going to tell you anyway. We don't have much time."
Puck's eyebrows rose as he chuckled darkly. "You mean that you're not going to kill me?"
Blaine smirked. "No. Quite the opposite, actually."
Puck's eyes darted all over the other man's body, checking for signs of weaponry. Of course, this was simply a reflex. The… thing before him obviously didn't need weaponry. He'd thrown Puck – a fully grown man trained to kill all sorts of supernatural beings – around like he was a ragdoll. "Give me one good reason why I should trust you."
"Well, you're not dead… yet," Blaine told him. "But you might be if we don't get moving. I've got to get you to safety."
Puck scoffed. "I'm not going anywhere until I know that Ellen and the others are fine."
"Well, they're not," Blaine said, standing up and brushing non-existent dust from his black jacket and tailored pants. "That's why we're getting out of here before you get into any more trouble."
Finding that he could now move again, Puck also rose to his feet. Crossing his arms firmly across his chest, he looked down at the smaller man with hard, unmoving eyes. He may have been the taller one of the two, but there was a presence that Blaine carried, something that determined him to be the man with the power. "Wait. How many are dead?"
"More than half," he replied emotionlessly. He didn't have time for this. If he didn't get the other man to a safe location soon, they'd be putting a number of innocent human lives in jeopardy.
Puck nodded. "Okay."
"Okay?" Blaine repeated, growing increasingly frustrated. "So we can go now?"
"No. We have to… you have to tell me who the fuck you are first – what you are."
"I'm an angel," Blaine told him, re-buttoning his suit jacket and slicking back his already gelled hair.
Puck's face paled. "No shit," he whispered. Then, his eyes narrowing, his shoulders tensed. "You're telling me that fucking angels exist now? No. Wait. Don't tell me that Santa Claus is real too!"
Blaine did not appear uncomfortable following the other man's outburst. "We don't appear unless our services are needed," he said blankly, his eyes unsmiling.
"Needed? How were your services not needed when Quinn died? Or Sam? Or anyone else I've ever known?" Puck's face was growing red as his voice rose. "Where were you when my father left us?"
"I'll explain everything when you're ready. For now, you can follow me out of here."
"What if I don't?" Puck challenged.
"You'll either come of your own will or by force," the angel told him simply as he turned on his heel and opened the door a fraction. When Puck didn't immediately follow, he glanced back at him. "So, are you coming?"
Puck was warring within himself. His eyes roamed Blaine's body, noting the way he held himself. The strength in his shoulders and posture alone was otherworldly. "Why should I trust you?"
Blaine sighed. "You care about humanity as much as I do, Noah. Now please, before innocent lives are lost, follow me."
Puck nodded. "Right," he said shortly. "But if you try any of your hocus pocus crap on me-"
"Believe me; you've had enough of that for a life time. Literally."
Rachel wasn't like most hunters. Most hunters would rather steal a car than walk ten blocks from Lima General Hospital to the Ohio State University campus in Lima. Rachel didn't believe in that sort of crime. She believed in doing the right things by humanity. What was the point in saving these people if she were just going to steal from them anyway?
She arrived at the campus, turned left and found her way to the administration office, where she sidled up to the front desk and smiled at the tired looking woman seated at it. "Hello," she said brightly, "I'm Rachel Puckerman. I'm a relative of a student here. I was just wondering if you could tell me where to go."
The woman blinked several times before nodding slowly. "Give me five minutes," she replied slowly, her facial expression unchanging. She stood up from her chair and walked around the corner, leaving Rachel to her own devices.
The bright smile disappeared from her face when she was left alone. She could feel her cell phone inside the pocket of her tartan skirt. It was as heavy as lead. She took a deep breath as she pulled it out and stared at the screen. 0 Messages. 0 Missed Calls. Nobody knew anything. Feeling that she could no longer avoid it, Rachel dialled the dreaded number and waited. As the seconds went by, the gentle ring, ring, ring, of the phone in her ear, she started to become restless.
"Hello?"
Rachel very nearly froze at the sound of her voice. "Uh, hi... It- it's me."
The person on the other end of the line was silent.
"Rachel," she added, feeling that it was necessary. There was still no reply. Her heart clenched as she uttered the next words, "Your daughter."
When there was, again, no reply, Rachel sighed irritably. "I wouldn't be calling unless it was important."
"What is it? Does it have to do with the money?"
Rachel bit back the smart comment that rose in her throat. Now wasn't the time. The events of the past twenty four hours still weighed down on her conscience, forcing her to relive the moments over and over again. Quinn.
"No. Not the money," she replied, shaking her head as she said so. "It's Quinn," she forced herself to explain further. Her name sounded strange on her tongue, heavy and sluggish.
"What happened?"
Not even a hint of worry for her own situation. "She…" She swallowed. To say it out loud was to admit that it had really happened. That she was really gone. "She's dead." She couldn't help the loud sob that escaped her lips as she uttered the last word. Dead. Gone. Forever. "Some-something jumped out at us. The car got out of control… she-she couldn't reach the steering wheel." She swallowed, pushing the images of blood and smoke thick in the air, surrounding Sam's truck from her mind. "I watched her die, Shelby."
Her mother was silent on the other end. Silence, Rachel thought bitterly, immediately wiping her tears from her eyes, was all that Shelby understood. "I'm sorry," Shelby told her finally, her voice quiet and almost sympathetic. Rachel knew better, though, and before long her biological mother had returned to what mattered most to her. "Does this affect our agreement at all?" There was an edge to her words, almost challenging Rachel to tell her that it did.
Rachel swallowed her resentment. Their agreement was something that she didn't want to think about. "In a way."
"You're not seeing her. I won't let you."
She cringed at the sharpness in the older woman's words. "It was her dying wish. I have to follow through with it."
"What you have to do is hang up and never call this number again."
Rachel was used to the way Shelby treated her. She merely blinked, stared out into the hallway, waited for any sign of movement. There was none. It seemed that the receptionist wasn't in a hurry. "Shelby."
"I said no, Rachel. My daughter will not have anything to do with the world in which you live."
Rachel felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach. She felt hollow - useless. "And what about your other daughter?" She suddenly snapped, unable to control her temper any longer. "It wasn't my choice to be brought up this way. I do what I do to help people. It's not my problem that you don't understand that."
"Regardless," Shelby replied, her voice monotone, "You're not seeing her."
A sense of defeat settling over her, Rachel's once strong voice faded to a whisper. "Please," she begged, "Please, mum."
There was an agonising minute of silence. For once, Rachel though, she'd gotten through to her, made her understand her predicament. Maybe they could reconcile-
The line went dead.
I should have known.
Hastily shoving her cell back into her pocket and wiping the tears that still shone in her eyes, she blinked a few times, willed the redness to go away.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps from the corridor around the corner. She steadied her breathing and placed a calm, pleased smile on her face as she greeted the receptionist once more. "So, could I get the address?" She questioned the lady as she slumped back into her desk chair.
"No need," the woman replied, clearly bored.
Rachel froze for a moment. Then, recovering from her momentary lapse in professionalism, she opened her mouth to speak once again. "What do you mean?"
The woman's eyes flicked left, back out toward the corridor. Rachel followed her stare and watched, slightly in awe, as a man stopped before her.
Puck.
No, she reminded herself, Aaron.
Aaron Puckerman was a sight to behold. Almost a carbon copy of his brother – minus the ridiculous Mohawk – he wore tailored business pants and a crisp white button-up shirt. He didn't smirk, like his brother would have, instead he smiled. However, the smile was guarded, like he knew what she was up to.
"City cousin," he greeted her, immediately following expectations and walking forwards with his arms out wide. Rachel copied him. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, his chest pressed against her chest as she felt his warm breath on her neck. It was all she could do not to shiver as he released her from his embrace. The receptionist watched them with little interest. "What brings you to Lima?"
"You, of course," she replied. Her words faltered slightly. She was still slightly heady after inhaling his distinct scent – a mix of aftershave and pine trees. "You have to show me where you live!" She went on, hoping that he and the receptionist hadn't noticed her strange behaviour.
"Yeah," he agreed. "Come on then."
He led her out of the building and further into the campus. After distancing themselves from the surrounding students, he quickly turned to her, a now worried expression on his face. "It's Noah, isn't it?"
She blinked. "Puck?"
"He's still going by that stupid name?"
Smiling slightly at the thought of Puck's real name, Rachel nodded. "He's in hospital, but you can relax. He- he's fine." For the first time that afternoon, Rachel thought of the angel – Blaine. Puck was fine because of him. Without him, she would be telling Aaron much different news. "He wants to see you, though."
Aaron's face had changed a lot within the last minute. At first, upon hearing that his brother was in hospital, he'd been horrified, but now, after hearing that he was in fact okay, he had shifted back to an air of indifference. "Well, if he's fine, that's good and all but I don't want to see him."
Rachel's mouth dropped open. "You don't want to see him?"
"Not exactly, no."
She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. He frowned as she did this. "You're not one of his girlfriends are you?" He wondered out loud. She didn't seem his brother's type – in fact, she was more his type.
"What?" Rachel gasped. Her cheeks suddenly glowing bright red, she quickly looked down at her feet, "I mean, no. Why would you say that?"
Aaron sighed and tucked his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. "Well," he began awkwardly, "My brother doesn't usually keep friendships with women that he doesn't have carnal knowledge of."
She blushed. "He hasn't tried anything of that sort with me-"
"Yet," he interrupted her. He noticed when she dropped her head and stared at the pavement underneath their feet. "I-" he paused for a moment, watched as her big brown eyes met his once more. "I'm sorry for being rude. I appreciate you coming down here to tell me about my brother, but I really don't want to see him right now, especially after everything that happened between us."
"I lied earlier."
Aaron blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I lied about Puck being fine," Rachel continued. "Well... he is, at least physically, fine, but something really messed up happened to us out on the road. We- I saw things that you wouldn't believe-"
"Trust me, not much surprises me anymore," he said, effectively cutting her off with a meaningful look.
Rachel glared at him. "I know. Look, just because I don't particularly dress the part, or even act the part, you can't assume that I'm not an excellent hunter. I do my job accurately and efficiently and I certainly don't appreciate you mocking me."
"Whoa, lady," he exclaimed jokingly, holding his hands up in front of his body in a mock surrender. "I get it."
She stared hard at him for a few moments more. Then, deciding that he'd learnt his lesson – at least for now – she licked her dry lips and continued. "We're onto something. Something big."
"What? Like a vampire nest that needs cleaning out or something?"
She shook her head. "There was a congregation of hunters up at the Roadhouse. Ellen spoke to us for a while, told us of her plans. She'd found a horde of demons living inside an abandoned warehouse just outside of Lima. We wanted to try and take out as many as we could, whilst trying to gain information as to what they were planning," she took a deep, shaky breath. "But we never made it to the warehouse. We were attacked. Something jumped out at us, a demon I'm sure. Whatever it was... it pulled Sam from the car. We span out of control and crashed. Quinn… she's- she's gone." She wouldn't cry. Couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't. "Puck was too. But… he- he saved him."
Aaron regarded her, unsure what to do as the all too familiar tears sprang to her eyes once more. "Who saved him?"
Her face was guarded as she replied, "An angel."
When Sam woke up, everything was blurry. He was too afraid to move at first for fear of collapsing again. Where was he?
Trees. The first thing that he saw was trees. He was in a clearing, somewhere deep in a forest. The trees, they were far away, so far away. The sun hurt his eyes. He blinked; once, twice, three times.
Eventually, the blurriness went away. He made his first attempt as movement, pushed himself up on his elbows and wheezed as a hoarse cough rattled in his throat. He spat blood onto the grass next to him. Red against green. Green against red. It reminded him of Christmas. His breathing was shallow and his chest ached with hunger. The truck. Where was it? He tried to turn his neck but it hurt too much.
Puck… Quinn… Rachel. Had they made it out alive? The last thing that he remembered was being torn from the vehicle, his attacker's hands cold on his bare arms. He recalled the pain that shot through his body as he was ripped from the moving truck. He was covered in cuts, he realised, his body pierced with microscopic shards of glass. He started to pick what he could out of his hands.
Soon, he tried to turn his neck again. It didn't hurt so badly this time. He needed to walk, to run, to flee from this place, toward his friends, toward a hospital.
He attempted this, but his knees buckled out from under him in odd angles, causing an animalistic screech to escape him. It tore out of him, filled the air around him. He groaned again, tried to stand up once more, only to have his leg twist, bend and fall under his torso. Another scream, this time causing a flock of birds to fly out of the tree tops and away, away from the horrible sound.
Sam was panting as he let his head fall back against the grass. He cringed as the sunlight blinded him, forced him to shut his eyes. "Somebody…" he groaned, the words causing him pain. How long had it been since the accident? Hours? Days? Weeks? "Please… help me…"
She watched him from just behind the tree line, her presence unknown to anyone.
(a/n): I'll be introducing new characters very shortly, perhaps one in the next chapter. I'm really sorry about my updating, I'll try to get another chapter up in the next few days. Please review with your thoughts. The first reviewer to guess at what Shelby and Rachel's arrangement is gets my unconditional respect ;)