Exiles From Delight

We, unaccustomed to courage

exiles from delight

live coiled in shells of loneliness

until love leaves its high holy temple

and comes into our sight to liberate us into life

~Maya Angelou, Touched By An Angel

Disclaimer: I own nothing except what is mine.

A/N: Still plugging away at this, hoping each part is as good as the last. Reviews are love!

Chapter Six

She'd barely made it down the stairs into the yard before she was snatched up into a rib-crushing embrace. She smiled and leaned into the hug as best as she could with her arms trapped at her sides. "It's good to see you too, Michael."

The Archangel in question released her as suddenly as he'd grabbed her and dropped a hand on each of her shoulders, his fingers digging into her jacket hard enough for her to feel them through the many layers of fabric. His close cropped blonde head bowed low so that he could meet her eyes. "You are well?"

She'd never had a big brother, but she figured it must feel something kinda like this and she couldn't help but smile. "I'm well," she affirmed.

"I was concerned."

"I can tell. And so can my shoulders."

He took the hint and loosened his grip, though he did not release her. "I saw the bodies in the yard and I thought the worst."

Dev felt her stomach turn at the reminder. All those good people...

"That would explain all the shouting," she forced out, trying to sound normal and failing miserably if his pained look of sympathy was anything to go by. "You likely scared my Pops half to death. I'm surprised he's not out here with his shotgun already."

"My apologies," Michael said, sounding far from repentant, "but I was concerned, as I said. You are far too important to lose, Devlin. Especially now."

That dimmed the good will she was feeling toward him. "You know, Michael, you sure know how to make a girl feel special. I love being reminded that I'm only as important as the purpose I serve."

The look he gave her spoke volumes, fondness mixed with mild reproach and she knew she wasn't going to be able to stay angry with him for long. "You have a part to play in what is to come, and I have a vested interest in the outcome. It is an unavoidable fact. But you know perfectly well that I was concerned for you yourself, Devlin."

Dev rolled her eyes and shook off his hands. "Yeah, I know you were," she admitted, walking a few steps further out into the yard. "I assume you have a whole hell of a lot to tell me, so if you don't mind, let's go into the barn. It's too damn cold out here."

"Can we not go into the house?"

"Pops," Dev reminded him, glad to be able to have such a convenient lie on hand. Michael well knew her desire to keep her grandfather wholly separate from this part of her life.

Unfortunately, the excuse didn't carry the weight that it once had, seeming almost ridiculous in light of everything that had happened. Judging by the frown on his face, Michael knew it too.

"Even now, after all that has occurred, you would still attempt to..."

"The state of affairs between me and my Pops is none of your concern, Michael," she snipped, cutting him off cold. "I'm going into the barn. If you have anything important to tell me, you'd best follow me."

She started off across the yard without bothering to look back, already knowing that he would be at her heels. She trudged through the snow toward the barn, careful to give the stables a wide berth—the horses did not take kindly to her heavenly visitors, a fact she had learned the hard way several years past when Michael had ducked into the barn to avoid being seen by Pops and they'd very nearly had a stampede on their hands.

Once inside the barn, she stood aside to let Michael in and then pulled the sliding door shut behind them both; that done, she dropped down onto the nearest bale of hay and gave her full attention to God's General. "So the child lives," she said without preamble. "You did what you said you were gonna do and the child is safe…and here you are in all your Heavenly splendor to tell me about it. I gotta say, Michael, I'm kinda surprised—I figured you'd be bruised, broken and hell-fire crispy by now."

"That mirrors my own expectations almost perfectly," he agreed, coming to stand before her with his legs apart, arms behind his back in an at ease position, the unconscious stance of a man who'd spent the past several millennia as a soldier. "I never dreamt that I would survive this intact. In all honesty, I had not imagined I would survive it at all."

"Not to be morbid, but I didn't figure you would either." Her earlier conversation with Gabriel still fresh in her mind, she gave him a considering look. "How exactly did you manage to avoid getting turned into Satan's newest roommate?"

His stance changed, chest puffing out in what looked remarkably like self-satisfaction. "In the end, He recognized that even in my disobedience I served Him—and far better than any of His other children. It is true that I defied Him, but it would have been a far greater crime to have hidden my convictions behind unquestioning obedience."

If she hadn't already heard Gabriel's side of the story, she probably would have been as proud of him as he clearly was of himself. But she had heard it, and all she could see when she looked at him was exactly what she'd told Gabriel earlier—one lucky son of a bitch. She figured he could afford to be told as much.

"You, Michael, are the luckiest son of a bitch in all of Creation."

Apparently, that had not at all been what he'd expected to hear. His brow knit and he regarded her with eyes suddenly hooded with confusion. "Why, exactly, is that cause for anger? I had expected you would be pleased that luck had landed so firmly on my side."

"I'm not mad because you're lucky," Dev clarified, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm mad because it doesn't seem like you're fully appreciative of just how lucky you were."

"I can assure you that I am well aware of my good fortune, Devlin." He sounded just this side of angry now, which was a first. She couldn't recall ever seeing Michael angry before. "And I hardly needed you to remind me of it."

"Well it sure sounded like you needed someone to remind you of it. That head of yours gets any bigger and you aren't gonna fit it back out the door of this barn."

Michael was frowning at her now, his anger melting back into confusion. "This does not sound like you, Devlin. Where has this irritation with me come from? Have we not always been good friends, you and I?"

And he was right. Theirs had been a comfortable, easy friendship right from the beginning. She'd gotten him, he'd gotten her and they'd barely ever had a cross word between them. On the other hand, she and Gabriel had never gotten along properly—oil & water rather than the peas & carrots that was her relationship with Michael.

But all of that, as with everything else in her life now, had suddenly changed. She'd gained an entirely new appreciation for Gabriel and a little more perspective on Michael.

That didn't mean she should just forget everything she'd always known to be true about one of the oldest friends she had. He was still the same Michael he had always been...she just maybe understood him a little better now. Understood that he, like Gabriel, was hardly infallible.

She shook her head, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "I'm sorry, Michael," she said quietly, chastened. "That was rude and I'm sorry. It's just..." she lifted her eyes to his and gave a little shrug, "...it's been a hell of a time, y'know?"

And just that quickly, they were again as they had been. Something amazingly like friends, and every inch comrades, both of them mere threads in a far greater pattern.

Michael moved to her side, seated himself on the bale of hay beside her, his wings tucked close to his body. "You have an amazing gift for understatement, Devlin."

She snorted out a laugh, smiled and nudged him playfully with her shoulder. "I really am glad you're ok, you know. Sorry if it didn't seem like it before."

His smile was warm and kind and the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkled in a way that made her smile all the wider in return. "All things considered, I suppose I shall have to forgive you."

As they sat there, engulfed in an atmosphere of friendly companionship, Dev noticed for the first time that he looked exactlylike he always had. Exactly.

"I think it's safe to assume you had to fight like hell to make this all work out the way it did."

"I did," his expression went somber. "Believe me, I did."

"Can't tell by looking at you," she tilted her head to the side, looking closer, searching for some sign of the damage that covered nearly every inch of Gabriel. "I don't see a single scratch."

"That...is where things get complicated. I do not have the time to explain the entire situation in detail at present, Devlin...but suffice to say, I looked far worse than this before the Father stepped in on my behalf."

Dev gave him a blank look. "What does that mean?"

Michael sighed deep and his shoulders drooped. "As you say…I fought. I fought and, ultimately, I lost. I fell and was utterly defeated, but then…I cannot rightly describe it even now, for it was an experience like none I have ever known nor ever imagined I would know. The Father came to me—He lifted me to his side and, in His infinite wisdom, He made me whole once more."

All of Dev's good will was swiftly being carved out and replaced with fresh anger, though not at Michael. Not this time.

"God healed you," she ground out, the words sharp enough to cut. "After you directly disobeyed Him and actually fought against Him, God just picked you up, dusted you off and decided to act like nothing had happened?"

"I do not know that I would describe it exactly like that..."

"What about the other guy?" Dev cut in, figuring it was time to do a little fishing since Michael was being uncharacteristically close-mouthed about the details. "I assume that whoever you were fighting was just following orders, so how'd he fair? Same deal? Dad breaks up the backyard brawl, applies the band-aids then goes back to watching the football game?"

Michael looked away, eyes anywhere but on her. Dev kept hers planted on him though, taking note of the way the muscle along the side of his jaw went taut with sudden tension.

"You, Devlin," Michael began, his tone oddly subdued, "have the most remarkable way of putting things."

"That's not actually an answer to my question, Michael."

"There is no answer to your question," Michael shot back, beginning to sound annoyed, "at least, none that I am willing to give. The events of last night are none of your concern. Satisfy yourself with the knowledge that the battle has been won, the child lives and hope for humanity has been restored."

It was a pretty speech. A true speech. And if she hadn't already known the whole truth, she would probably have been entirely satisfied by it. But the problem was…she did know the whole truth and while she couldn't actually say that Michael had lied, he certainly hadn't been entirely truthful either. In her book, being mislead was just as bad as being outright lied to, and it was really starting to make her angry.

And getting angry really was the last thing she needed to do at the moment.

She'd never been good with secrets—save her own enormous one. Really, it was probably better to say that she had never been any good with other people's secrets. Mostly because, as soon as she got good and worked up, wordshad a tendency to just sort of…fallout of her mouth.

Usually the wrong words.

Like now.

"What an absolute crock of shit," she barked out. "You go against orders, breaking every single rule in the book and what happens? God smacks you in the face with his handy-dandy-healing-sport-coat while flowers and kittens and rainbows rain from the heavens and. And then Gabriel—who has only ever done everything he's ever been told to do since the beginning of fucking time—once again does everything he's told to do and God's too busy hanging your picture on Heaven's Employee of the Month wall to do anything except let him bleed!"

Yep, there it was. The wrong thing had just poured out of her mouth and spilled out all over the place.

Son of a Mother.

Michael was instantly on point, his eyes boring into hers with staggering intensity. "You have seen Gabriel?"

Back-peddling fiercely, Dev attempted to direct the conversation away from her unhappy houseguest. "Really? That's what you took from that? I clearly need to work on my delivery…"

"I asked you a question and you will answer it," Michael interrupted, on his feet and somehow managing to look much bigger than he actually was. "Have you seen Gabriel?"

She knew enough of him to see that there was no point pretending. Of course, that didn't mean she had to blab the whole truth either. If half-truths were good enough for her, then they could be good enough for him too. "I have."

"Devlin, you must tell me what you know of him. He has not returned Above since..." his voice trailed off, the words seeming to die on his tongue. Michael swallowed hard and turned slightly away, eyes straying to the single window high up on the west side of the barn. "He is greatly missed, Devlin."

"Not so greatly from what I saw of that stomach wound. He'd have been better off if he'd been missed a whole helluva lot more than he was."

Michael rounded on her, all Archangel and little friendliness to be found. "Do not play games with me, child. If you know where he is..."

"I certainly wouldn't tell you," Dev interrupted, "since you're the one who nearly cut him in half!"

Sucking in an involuntary breath, Michael surged toward her, wings flaring. "You have done more than see him—you have spoken to him. And at length, it would seem. Where is he, Devlin?"

Dev pushed herself off the hale bale, not in the least cowed by his show of force. She'd already gone toe-to-toe with one Archangel today, and Michael was nowhere near as intimidating as Gabriel. "That's none of your business, General Jackass. All you need to know is this—he doesn't want to see you."

"How do you know that?"

"I saw it in a vision."

Amazingly, Michael actually paused at that. "Did you really?"

Dev rolled her eyes. A lot. "No, you idiot...he told me he didn't want to see you. So you're just gonna have to wait until he's ready. You're gonna have to give it him some time, Michael."

"Time?" Michael scoffed. "Time for what?"

"Time to heal," Dev answered, a touch coldly. "You really did a number on him, you know that?"

Remembering that Gabriel had done more than his fair share of return damage, she felt a little guilty at the honest regret that colored Michael's response…

"His wounds..."

"...have been taken care of," she assured, her voice once again leveling out to something resembling friendly. "But that's not really what I was talking about. He's sliced up even worse on the inside than on the outside. He needs some time to sort some things out in his head."

"That is exactly why he must return Above," Michael insisted. "He will find the solace he seeks at his Father's side, amongst his brethren."

Dev shook her head. "I really don't think that's a good idea, Michael. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that's the very last thing he needs right now. I really think he's better off just staying where he is for the time being."

Michael was looking at her oddly, puzzled and irritated in equal measure. "Gabriel has been my brother since time immemorial, and yet you imply that you—whose own experience of him is remarkably limited—understand him better. It rather begs the question of how, exactly, you have gained such astonishing insight."

She immediately recognized the accusation glaring out at her from behind the blue of his eyes. "I did not read him, Michael," she snapped, returning his glare in kind. "I know better than that."

Never mind that she nearly had—Michael didn't need to know about something that had only almost happened.

"I have known you since you were a child, Devlin, and you possess the emotional acuity of a lobotomized sociopath. If you did not read him, then how do you know what he needs with such certainty? I highly doubt Gabriel himself told you all of that!"

"First of all," Dev glared at him, arms crossed over her chest defensively, "I may not be able to tell how someone's feeling just by breathing the same air that they do, but I'm not as bad as you're implying, though you do earn a few creativity points for the whole lobotomized sociopath thing." She closed her eyes and rolled her head, attempting to ease some of the tension in her neck and shoulders. "Second, as to how I figured it out…"she paused, looking up at Michael and giving a helpless shrug. "I honestly don't know. I just…I get him, Michael. I don't know why I do, because I certainly never did before and I have no idea what's changed. But obviously something has. When it comes down to it, I just need you to believe me when I tell you that he's not ready to go home yet."

To her surprise, that actually seemed to work like nothing else had. He must have heard the truth in her voice, because Michael deflated, head dropping and wings drooping. "Will you at least tell me where he is? If he does not wish to be seen, then I will respect his wishes. But I would prefer to know where he is all the same."

Dev shook her head again. "Sorry, but until he greenlights it, none of that information will be forthcoming. I know it's frustrating, but he really wasn't prepared for how everything went down between you two."

"Which is precisely why I need to see him!"

"It's also precisely why he doesn't want to see you."

"You realize," Michael said, his frustration clear in his tone, "that I was not alone in acting regrettably, Devlin. Gabriel is not the only injured party in this situation."

"Yeah, yeah, he done you wrong too. I am well aware of that."

"Did me wrong?" Michael echoed the words in utter amazement. "He did far more than that…he killed me, Devlin!"

"Only a little bit," she dismissed, tucking her hands into her pockets. "And you got better."

"Devlin!"

"What?" Dev snapped. "What do you want me to say, Michael? Yeah, he killed you. So what? That doesn't change anything. I'm still not gonna tell you where he is or let you see him."

Michael actually took a step back from her at that, looking momentarily stunned, and then swiftly irate, lips compressing in a thin, angry line. "You will not let me? You will not let me? Who are you to stop me?"

"Who am I?" Dev was tired, her head had begun to throb again, and she was as done with this conversation as she was going to get. "I'm the person he came to for help when he didn't know where else to go," she said simply. "And if that doesn't answer your question, then I'm sorry, but I've got nothing else for you."

Letting out a growl of frustration, Michael ran a hand over his eyes. "I do not like this! I do not like this at all!"

"Sad to say, but that doesn't change a damn thing. I couldn't honestly care less if you like it or not."

"Well, I don't."

"Sucks to be you then."

Dev brushed her hands down the front of her coat, double checking the zippers and fully intending to walk away without another word. Michael interrupted her exit with a hand on her arm. She stopped, grudgingly, and looked up at him.

"Do we really have to keep at this, Michael?"

He did not look at all happy—but there was resignation in his face that had not been there before. "You must tell me this at the very least…is he well?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Dev said quietly. "But I think it's safe to say that he's as well as can be expected, all things considered."

Michael sighed. "I suppose that is better than nothing at all."

Dev gave him a tired smile. "I suppose it's gonna have to be, because that's all you're getting."

She was about to pull away and head back to the house, but Michael tightened his grasp on her arm, halting her before she'd even begun.

"There is more I must tell you."

Sighing, her head dropped, chin falling to her chest. "I don't know if I can handle more right now, Michael."

"I'm afraid you have little choice in the matter. The child lives, Devlin. You know what that means."

She had known Michael long enough and well enough to be able to hear all the words he didn't say. And the ones he tended not to say were generally the most important ones of all. "It means I've got a job to do, and that it's finally time for me to do it," she acknowledged, giving him a nod. "How long do I have?"

Michael relaxed at her easy compliance, his grip loosening. "If my instructions have been followed, they should be here within the week. And I have every confidence that my instructions will be followed."

"Of course you do," Dev commented, finally shrugging him off. "You said 'they'. How many should I be expecting? It's not a terribly big house, you know."

"There will be three—the child, of course. His mother—Charlie—and the Protector—Jeep—should be with him, if all has gone well with them. And I would hazard to say that one bedroom should be all that they will need."

It was only a three bedroom house. She would think about those logistics later, when her head didn't feel like it was about to split open. "I can make that work."

"I have every confidence that you will."

"Thanks."

She was nearly out the barn door when his voice, calling her name, stopped her once more. She didn't turn around.

She didn't need to.

Everything she needed to know, she had heard in the way he'd said her name, all supplication and entreaty and true, honest worry. It made her that much more inclined to keep liking him as much as she always had.

"Don't worry, Michael," she assured him gently, cocking her head and meeting his eyes over her shoulder. "I promise I'll take damn good care of him. I'll give him everything he could possibly need and then some."

"I know you will..."

She was to the door now, her hand brushing against the rough-hewn wood, when Michael's parting shot stopped her in her tracks.

"…and that's what worries me."

I didn't hear that, she told herself firmly, forcing herself to start walking—ordering herself not to look back. He didn't say it, and I didn't hear it and I'm not not not going to ask him what he means by it.

Because if she didn't ask, he wouldn't tell; and if he didn't tell, she could keep pretending that she had no idea what he meant.