Chapter 17: Rêve

"Alex!"

The night was cold as the wind blew through Noma's tangled hair. Her feathers twitched as her wings cocooned their exhausted bodies. They were lying in the middle of a sandy courtyard outside of a rundown roadside motel. The desert sand was kicking up around them, coating her dry mouth with grit every time she took a breath. Alex's complexion looked grey and Noma was in tears as she tried to muster up the strength to drag him inside.

"Alex, please wake up," she pleaded quietly as she rested her forehead against his. She closed her eyes and the unshed tears slid down her face as she held him close. She could hear his heartbeat, but it was slower than before and she knew that if she couldn't bring him inside, into the warmth, he might not make it through the night.

The flight had been treacherous and their sudden pit stop in front of the motel was crucial. Noma's wings had suddenly decided that enough was enough, almost giving out on her and stranding them in the middle of nowhere. She had tried to get them to the nearest town, but her body wasn't complying. Instead, she aimed for the only building she had seen for miles, crash-landing with a painful tuck and roll, coating both of them with sand and bruises.

Breathing heavily, Noma rested for a moment, trying hard to stay conscious. The full moon above seemed to mock them both as it beamed down on their prone bodies. The cold breeze blew by once more. Her teeth started to chatter and she knew that it was now or never.

Letting go of Alex, she pushed herself upright so that she sat on her knees. Blinking away the last of her tears, she told herself to suck it up. Noma knew she was exhausted and that it made it hard for her to think clearly, but she knew what to do. Shaking out her wings for a moment, she closed her eyes and mouth as sand and desert debris shook free from her feathers. She stretched her aching wings out to their full spans and then let them droop, resting them momentarily. Holding her breath for a second, she pulled them close to her back and made them disappear. They needed to rest and repair themselves.

Looking down at the prone Chosen One, Noma picked up one of his arms and pulled the unconscious man upright into a seated position. Quickly, she put both of her arms around his torso, just under his arms, and started dragging him towards the building. Her newfound energy gave her enough strength to move him for a few minutes. But with each passing moment, Alex became heavier and heavier. She stopped at the closest motel room door, trying to hold him upright while turning the doorknob.

Only to find that the door was locked.

Noma sat down, her head resting against the door. She looked down at the man she was holding and gently touched his face. "Alex…" she whispered.

~~~***D***~~~

Alex…

The sky was practically purple and the air was cold and biting. The trees swayed as the wind blew through them and Alex's hair ruffled about his face. It was longer than before as if he hadn't had a haircut in a long time. His face was bruised and there was a small cut under his left eye. The scruff on his face made him look older as did his weary eyes. His jaw was clenched as if he was fighting off a wave of emotions. Anger and frustration. Sadness. All roiling through him.

He stood motionless in the middle of a wild green field. A field on top of a small hill. A hill among rolling hills that stretched out as far as his eyes could see. Behind him was a dense forest. A forest that was glowing with a fiery ember.

Alex stared out across the hills. The green stretched on forever. His hand started cramping and he adjusted his grip. Looking down, he noticed the sword that he was holding in his hand. It was covered in a rust-red substance and the jacket he wore was soiled with dirt and splattered. More red.

Something winged was coming towards him, barely noticeable, off in the great distance. The sky above was filling with grey clouds, with smoke blazing up from the burning forest behind him. And then his focus shifted.

He noticed bodies strewn about, lying in the green grass. More bodies could be seen, spreading out from where he stood. And then he started to notice that the grass wasn't really all that green. Splotches of reddish-brown covered the grass in front of him. Glancing around, he saw the ominous hue covering the hill that he was standing on. And then the next hill over. And the next one after that. The entire distance was covered in a reddish-brown.

And then he eyes landed on something else.

A body lay in front of him. A familiar body.

He stepped forward to take a closer look. The body's black wings were bent at an odd angle. One of which was bloodied and hacked in two. "No…" Alex said in despair as he dropped to his knees, letting go of the sword and lifting one of the wings to reveal the angel's face.

A gasp and cry of pain escaped Alex as he dropped the wing and scrambled backwards. He stared at Michael's blank face. The archangel almost looked as if he were sleeping. His eyes were closed with an oddly peaceful expression, despite the smattering of dried blood on his skin.

Alex covered his mouth, dreading what he was seeing. Did he kill Michael? Was he really dead? What was happening? Where the hell was he? And then he glanced at his shaking hand. It was caked in dried blood and dirt. Horrified, he stared at both of his sullied hands and then tried to wipe them clean on his soiled jacket.

The winged shadow in the sky was getting closer. Alex glanced up and then grabbed the sword, fumbling about, trying to stand up and defend himself. How did he get here? What was this? He could hear the wings as the angel approached, getting ever closer. Alex craned his head upward, suddenly feeling numb and detached as the angel dropped down in front of him, leaving Michael's body as the only thing between them.

The giant angel was shrouded in shadows and Alex couldn't quite see what he looked like, as if the edges were a little blurry and the angel's face was a dark void. But there was something familiar about this being. And there was a smugness that radiated off of him as his head tilted down towards the Chosen One. The overly tall angel was barefoot and dressed in strange garb, as if from another time, including elaborate gilded armor. An oversized sword hilt could be seen sticking out from between his dark purple wings. They were still out and visible, yet neatly tucked against his back. Feathers ruffled lightly in the passing breeze.

Alex's heart hammered away in his chest as he clutched his own sword's handle. There was a rage that was swiftly burning through his body. "What do you want?" Alex's words tumbled out of his mouth as if they were not his own.

"You have done so well, I've come to congratulate you." The angel's peculiar lilting voice rumbled and crackled and seemed to reverberate deep into Alex's bones. It sounded familiar to him, as if he had spoken to this angel before. "I knew that you would come around to my way of thinking."

"This is your doing, not mine!" Alex spat out. Again the words came from his mouth without thought. His knuckles were white with the strain of keeping himself under control. Alex felt odd and not quite sane.

The angel sighed dramatically and looked down at Michael's body. "And I suppose, this is my doing as well?" He nudged Michael with his bare foot.

"Why are you here?" Alex asked without hesitation, suddenly confused. "You don't exist here…not anymore…"

The angel's head snapped up, glaring at Alex with sudden fervor. Alex still couldn't quite see his face, but he felt the intensity roiling off of him. "I exist, and you would do best to remember that, oh, Chosen One," he said with distain.

Alex felt suddenly paralyzed as if all freewill was stripped away from him. The imposing being in front of him seemed to enjoy Alex's sudden predicament and with a small kick to Michael's side, he stepped over the prone archangel's body. Taking a few steps closer to Alex, the shadows started to clear, making his face noticeable and pronounced.

"I'm so proud of you," he drawled as he moved fluidly closer.

And then Alex was suddenly able to move again as the angel towered over him, grabbing his upper arms and grinning down at him. All breath flooded out of the Chosen One as he stared up at the angel's face. The face that looked so very similar to his own. The face that had almost a gleeful mocking sneer as he stared back at him. It was as if the angel was an older, darker, smugger, unhinged version of Alex. The resemblance was uncanny. As if he could be…

His heartbeat thundered in his ears and fear chilled him as he yanked himself away from the oversized being. Pointing his sword at him, Alex yelled, "ENOUGH! This was your doing, not mine. Not my doing."

The dark angel tilted his head in a placating way. At first he had a stern expression and then a grin broke out over his face. "Take ownership of your deeds. Be pleased! The son of the Morning Star should be proud of his abilities. Proud of his accomplishments."

Alex's arm trembled as he held his sword out. He was confused. What the angel said made no sense to him. The sword seemed to weigh more and more with every passing moment. Alex squinted at the angel, as if he could somehow make sense of what he was seeing.

"Father?"

~~~***D***~~~

Alex jerked awake. His eyes wide and unseeing for a moment.

Blinking, his heart slammed against his rib cage as he tried to sit up, legs tangled in sweat-soaked sheets. Looking around, he found himself no longer on the bloody grassy knoll, but instead shirtless and barefoot in a dingy Motel 6 room. His bare chest heaved as he gasped for air and his hands shook as he tried to understand what just happened. Where was he? That didn't feel like an ordinary dream, he thought to himself.

"Noma?" he called out, confusion still not clearing. It was dark in the room and he fumbled about as he reached out to turn on the nearby lamp next to his bed. His hands kept shaking as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat there for moment, blinking into the brightness of the room. The dread that was in his bones wouldn't leave him. The image of that tall dark angel grinning down at him seemed etched into his mind, casting doubt on all that he thought he knew was real.

Who was that? he thought. His stomach responded by threatening to come up through his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he willed it to behave. Groaning for a moment, he ran his fingers through his hair and then rubbed his tired face. Why did he feel like he had run a marathon and simultaneously been squelched by a steamroller? His poor aching body protested with every move. Rubbing his eyes for a moment, he tried to remember where he had been before this room.

But all Alex could think about was that damn angel.

And then he froze mid movement. Pulling his hands away from his face, he studied them. His skin was clean and unsullied, but echoes of his dream made him blink twice, suddenly seeing the blood and dirt on his hands. His stomach turned again and this time he had to cover his mouth to keep from upchucking in the middle of the room.

"Alex?" Noma's concerned voice was thick was sleep.

He stood up, briefly glancing across the room to find her squinting into the light. She was sitting upright on an oversized sofa chair. Ignoring her completely, he moved swiftly through an open bathroom door and straight to the sink. He threw up what little stomach acid he had left in his body and then was racked with dry-heaves for a few more minutes. His body's violent reaction also induced tears. After rinsing his mouth, he washed his face, trying to rid himself of the onslaught of the waterworks.

Blinking hard, he peered into the mirror to find Noma standing behind him with a look of concern. She was rigid and poised for action, her hands splayed out as if to steady him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, tentatively.

He stared at her with his mouth slightly open, as if words were about to spill out of his mouth. But then the tears welled up again, blurring his sight, and all he could do was swiftly wipe them away and close his mouth. Glancing back at himself, he saw the weary, tortured look on his face. He looked like a stranger to himself. At first, his reflection looked nothing like the dark angel in his dreams, and then suddenly that was all he could see. That face was sneering back at him.

Horrified, Alex looked down, splattering his face with more water. He tried to get rid of the image, only to have it replaced with Michael's prone and bloodied body. Tears welled up again and he sunk to his knees as his chest constricted. The cool Motel 6 bathroom tile was oddly soothing as he laid down on it. His body continued to tremble. Something was still not right.

Alex couldn't feel his body anymore. It felt cold and numb. Detached. The tears continued to stream uncontrollably down his face as he finally looked up at Noma who rushed to be at his side. She got down on her knees in front of him. He couldn't quite feel how she pulled him into her arms, gently running her hand over his face, wiping away the errant droplets.

Michael's tortured face haunted him as the darker angel's laughter echoed off the bathroom walls. Alex felt distant as if it were someone else sobbing on the bathroom floor. As if somehow something had finally broken inside of him and there was nothing to tether him to this world.

Noma held Alex's shaking body and tried to soothe him. With each touch, she reminded him of himself, gently distracting him from the images of blood and hacked-off wings, bringing him closer to this reality. She held him close to her body, knowing that something terrible had affected him.

Something was definitely not quite right.