12. Exile
They stood facing each other: the tall powerful figure holding a large mace, his huge white wings stretched out above his back, and the other slender and shorter though almost as powerful, holding a sword in his hand, his black wings folded. They were brothers, His elder children, first and second-born sons; once best friends and even more than that, and now become enemies. They both looked battered, covered with innumerable cuts, but neither of them would surrender, for all the future depended on that fight.
"It doesn't have to be this way," Michael said, staring intently at his brother's face, so incredibly beautiful, so cold and strange now. "Please, stop while you still can, Lucifer. He's merciful, He loves you and He'll forgive you, you and all those who have followed you."
"You still don't get it, do you, Michael?" Lucifer's voice was as cold and strange as his face. "I don't need His forgiveness, because He betrayed our kind for them. In fact, I don't need Him anymore."
"How could you say that, when He is our Father and the only reason for our very existence?"
"Well, I guess I've grown up enough, and you should've done the same, brother. You should've been on my side instead of fighting me. Don't you have any pride at all?"
"Damn that pride of yours! Look what it has done!" Michael gestured with his sword-hand.
Around them, for as far as they could see, a brutal massacre was unfolding. Countless white and black-winged angels were fighting, and the usual peace and harmony of The Grace was violated by the clash of weapons and other horrible sounds of bloody battle - screams of pain and anger, moans of the dying; their brothers were destroying each other. Although the two armies were about equal in numbers, the white-winged fighters were stronger, for they had no doubts, no regrets about killing their brothers, and they had Lucifer by their side, who had been the Keeper of the power of the Host. So those who were loyal to God were losing the battle. Michael saw how they were being felled one by one, and he felt his heart would scream from pain.
"I gave each of them the choice, and that is much more than He ever gave us," Lucifer replied with just a slight trace of sorrow in his tone. "By defying me, they chose their own fate with a free will. So did you, Michael, and I'm sorry for that. I'll tell Gabriel you fought well, after it's all over."
"What have you done to him? He wouldn't follow you, that I know for sure." Michael's voice was trembling out of agitation for his youngest brother.
"I can assure you that he is perfectly safe, and I promise you I'll take good care of him after you're gone." He sounded so confident, as if it were already over.
Michael shook his head. Was Lucifer really so blind? How could he possibly think that Gabriel would embrace him after what he had done? The youngest archangel was always full of mercy, kindness, forgiveness and love, but he was completely loyal to their Father, his faith in Him as absolute as his love for Him. Michael didn't think even this new Lucifer could do any harm to Gabriel, but he realized only too well that these latest events could have destroyed him, for he simply could not have borne to see his beloved brothers stand against – slaughter – each other. He was unsure what to do, since Lucifer apparently hadn't realized – didn't want to realize – that fact. So he did the only thing he could - he made one last attempt to reason with him.
"If no other reason will persuade you to stop, do it for Gabriel, Luc." The use of his brother's pet name was deliberate. "He couldn't stand this. He'll never forgive you, and it'll destroy him."
"You always underestimated me so much, Michael, as you underestimated the bond we share. Once you and He are gone, Gabriel will have no choice but to be with me."
"So this is what that 'free will' of yours means, brother?" Michael said harshly. "I get it now; there's only supposed to be one free will – yours."
"So you say." A cold smile twitched Lucifer's lips. He raised his mace. "I assume that's enough talking."
"So be it," his brother answered, raising his sword.
And then they charged at each other.
Suddenly an unbearably bright flash of cold blue-white light covered the battlefield, blinding both sides. Lucifer and Michael were forced to stop and shield their eyes, just as the other fighters did. When the light was gone, they saw a kneeling figure beside them; though it was definitely one of their kind they did not know him, for his face was lowered and his strong, massive, heavy features were completely unknown to both of them.
He stood up slowly, stretching his huge black wings and raising his head; although his face seemed somewhat familiar no-one recognized it, but everyone shivered to see the white fire that burned where his eyes should have been. He cocked his head, looking at the nearest white-winged rebel angel, and then his hand moved so quickly than no-one saw the movement, only the result: the lifeless body falling to the ground with its throat crushed. Then he turned to where Lucifer and Michael stood.
"Father." Michael's lips moved silently when he saw the fire in his eyes and felt the power emanating from him, and his face brightened.
"You fool." There was such bitterness in Lucifer's tone that for one slight moment Michael felt sorry for him in spite of all that had happened. "So glad that Daddy has come that you didn't even bother to take a proper look at his avatar?" And then he added in a flat voice, "Why, Gabriel?"
"Free will," the warrior answered, perfectly devoid of emotion. Then he looked at Michael and added confidently, "The key to the power of the Host is now yours. So, do your job, the sole general of His Army, and I'll do mine."
Those words seemed to break everybody's numbness. The battle resumed, but they could feel immediately that everything had changed; the rebels were cut out of the Host's power and were now supported only by Lucifer's own strength, while those who had stayed loyal to God felt their connection reestablished. The rebels were starting to lose. As for Gabriel – or what Gabriel had become – he was fighting in the very center of the battle; his ritual dagger and his wings that had become a deadly weapon were enough to strike the rebels down one by one. No-one could have said now that he wasn't born to fight.
Michael and Lucifer were still fighting each other but now as equals, so it was not divine strength but martial art that would decide the outcome of their battle. Lucifer fought desperately, his rage seeming to give him double strength but also making him reckless, so that he failed to parry one of Michael's attacks and was wounded so badly that he dropped his mace and fell to the ground.
Michael kicked the mace aside, his foot planted heavily on Lucifer's chest and his sword pointing at his brother's throat. With Lucifer's failure, the battle was over, the rebels defeated.
The heavy black figure approached Michael; the fire that had filled his eyes was gone and now Michael could see they were Gabriel's eyes, screaming with pain and agony in a strangely cold and blank face, and Michael hesitated over what to do next.
Gabriel picked up Lucifer's mace and said flatly, "Do it."
"Gab," said Lucifer in a voice full of disbelief and despair. "What have you done to yourself…?"
"Do it!" Gabriel repeated harshly. "Or I swear by His name, I'll do it."
And that Michael could not allow to happen, not at any price, for he understood that that would destroy what was left of his younger brother. He looked at Lucifer; his face was dark and cold, and the words he spoke were harsh and heavy as well.
"You belong here no more."
And then he appealed to The Host for all its power, and Lucifer and those who had followed him were cast out and thrown far from Grace forever.
xxx
They stared at each other: hazel yet strangely cold eyes versus black fathomless holes like portals to someplace else, a place where no sane person could want to be, with red flickers evocative of ever-burning Hellfire.
She could remember them being completely different. There was a time when they had been so perfectly dark blue and so beautiful that, as she recalled, just looking into them had been bliss. So long had elapsed since she'd seen them for the very last time, so many things had happened, and yet it felt as if it had all been only yesterday, the day when she had lost him - her beloved brother, one of her soul-mates.
That day had destroyed a naïve young archangel, too, or rather he had destroyed himself – had used all the creative power he'd had to transform himself into a completely different person, one that might stand and fight against rebel angels, one that might be His vessel for long enough to break Lucifer's blockade and give the power of The Host to Michael, to the one who could make the right decision when it came to the end – Do it. – and survive that without being broken by heartache. Gabriel gave up his creator's gift in exchange for strength, and relinquished almost all of his capacity for emotion in order to strengthen his mental stability, unsure that he could stand it otherwise. He became cold, harsh and callous about everything except his family, although strictly fair, steadfast and mindful of duty. Just one thing had remained unalterable: his love for Michael, though even that wasn't what it once was; there was something of bitterness and despair in it now, which both felt but never discussed, as they never made even casual mention of Lucifer's name. And now here he was, bringing it all up.
Strictly speaking, these weren't her painful memories, but Gabriel's, and although they were actually the same person there was something different in how it felt,for twenty years spent amongst humans had changed the ex-archangel a great deal, in quite unexpected ways.
In some respects, El was harder, tougher and definitely smarter than her alter ego, used to dealing with things Gabriel would hardly have heard of, starting from the very beginning with the 'why the fuck am I female' situation twenty years ago. Yet she was not unkind, though she could be – and very often was – inexorable. So now, while Gabriel's heart was agonizing over old wounds reopened, El's mind told it to shut the fuck up and not blow things this time, when the people she was used to calling 'family' were counting on her. Hell, Cain was counting on her. – I love you. – I know. – The tears for her beloved lost brother she could spill later (or probably scarcely even then, as it would be pointless), but right now she had a job to do.
What was on her mind would be painful, dangerous and unpredictable, and stood little chance of success. Gabriel would never do it. El decided to give it a chance.
xxx
When Charlie saw El raise her gun-hand, she sprinted from the car in spite of Cain's warning cry, but then she went numb. In the whole of this bizarre night, what she could now see was the craziest thing she could ever imagine: El was bending down over her husband's body and crushing her lips onto his, and he was responding eagerly.
"What the fuck?"
The woman's tone was full of anger. Sure, she was scared for her husband's life, and it was not as if she would have preferred to see him shot by her son's protector instead of kissed. She remembered, too, that it wasn't actually Jeep but someone else in Jeep's body, and yet to see them like that was unbearable, so she stepped forward unthinkingly to make it stop.
"Don't," she heard Michael say, in a flat but very confident voice. Charlie glanced at him and realized that he clearly didn't like what was happening any more than she did, but he obviously understood it better. Then he added, "Stay where you are. Wait." His gun-hand twitched slightly as he gave her the warning.
She felt her son's arm wrap around her waist and hold her gently but tightly. Charlie hadn't even noticed him leave the SUV. She looked at his face and shivered for how like Michael's it was at that moment.
"What's happening?" Cain asked sharply.
"Gabriel is fighting for your stepfather's life," Michael replied dryly.
What had started as a passionate kiss had now become something different; the man's body started to shake and he was clearly trying to struggle and break away, but El wouldn't let him; she held him still with a strength unexpected in one so slender, not letting him break lip-contact for even the slightest moment. Finally he gave a loud groan and his eyes rolled up. Only then did she let go of him and take a deep quick breath, still watching him carefully even though he appeared unconscious. Then she gently touched his neck with her fingertips, checking his pulse rate, and raised his eyelids slightly to find normal human eyes, Jeep's eyes. She gave a sigh of relief.
"Clear. He's gone. Jeep's fine," she said with absolute calm as she holstered her gun. Then, after a moment's thought, looking at the inert figure, she added, "Well, he will be fine, in time." Half-rising, she turned Jeep onto his side and removed the handcuffs. Then she stood up and stepped away from him, making room for Charlie, who immediately started bustling around her husband, and added, "Cain, I obviously need a First Aid Kit for Michael, so why the fuck do I still not have it?"