Category: Darksiders I & II

Rating: M

Couples: Azrael/War, Strife/Caim

Warnings: AU, Yaoi, Lemon, Mpreg

Chapter: 14

Copyright: Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me and Food-for-mind

Author's Note: Sequel to Angel of War

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War felt only dread while they tried following the trails. After a bit it had become impossible to follow the particular trails of the creatures that had chased his daughters. It was forcing them to ride blindly and hope for the best.

The best was not very good as they hadn't seen a sign of them for a while now. Was this some kind of karma for having a happy time in his life!? It certainly seemed like every time he had some happy times, something bad happened. But why did it have to be to his daughters of all things!?

"War." Death sharply stated, yanking his brother from his thoughts. "I can certainly imagine how worried you are right now, but concentrate."

"Grace and Gabriel are out there somewhere… probably dead by now." The Red Rider snarled. "My daughters are probably dead, Death. I am beyond worry right now."

"They aren't dead yet." Fury countered, though her hand was as tight on her reins as War was on his. "Not until we find their bodies. There is still a chance."

"You know what kind of creatures live here, Fury." War felt his throat tighten. "There is no way they survived this long without help… even if Grace remembered her sword." His voice broke just a bit when he said that.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It was perhaps half an hour later that a portal opened above them. Azrael appeared in the sky, swooping down with far less grace than he normally used.

War felt his heart stop when seeing that the angel was covered in blood. "No…" He would have spared his lover having to be the one to find their daughters' corpses. Yet, he didn't look so much heartbroken as he looked frantic. "Azrael?"

The scholar didn't answer, merely casting out his magics to form another portal beneath their feet… or rather, the hooves of their steeds. The horses pranced on the spot when they suddenly found themselves inside of the main wing of the fortress.

Grief was the first to notice the fourth horse present. Regret, the only mare, was resting on the ground in a corner. Two of the lesser healers of the Fallen were attending three deep wounds on her side. Within moments, the three stallions were restless beneath their riders.

"What happened?" Fury jumped down from her black stallion, allowing the horse to move as it wanted. Azrael however was already halfway down the hallway to the right.

"Details later, follow me." The angel called over his shoulder, using the fact that he needed to walk to cast aside most of his bloody clothes.

"Did you find the girls? Are they alright?" Following the Archangel, Death couldn't help himself. It had been a while ago he had saw the angel this stressed.

"Yes and no, but they are not my main concern right now." Azrael answered sharply. They were moving quickly, but far too slowly for his tastes.

"What's your main concern, then?" Fury demanded, jogging after her brother-in-law.

Azrael ignored her and though it broke his heart, he bypassed Gremory and his crying daughters, heading straight for the main medical room. "How is he?" He demanded while throwing the door open unceremoniously. War hesitated briefly beside his daughters before following his mate.

Death stood frozen the moment he saw who was lying on the bed; Strife. Blood pooled under the second oldest Nephilim and bright blue energies – which War recognized as the time-magics he had used back on earth – covered him. Worse was the sight of his back… Propped up on his side, they could clearly see two massive stabwounds in his abdomen. If not for the breaking of the Seals and the time-stop, the Gunner would have been long dead.

The Firstborn Nephilim walked in a daze to his brother and knelt near him. "Strife? What happened?"

"Take his head." Azrael half-snarled at the eldest Nephilim instead of answering, having taken position near the short-haired Rider's head. "I will transfer some of his wounds to you. You can survive these, he can't."

Without any hesitation, Death did as demanded and braced himself for what would no doubt be an uncomfortable experience.

Waving his brother away from holding the timestop, the Gatekeeper held one hand over Strife, the other clutching Death's arm. Chanting spells beyond the scope of most mystics, angelic or otherwise, at first it seemed nothing happened. But then, ever so slowly, one of the wounds on the Gunner's chest started to close as at the same time one on the Reaper's chest opened in exactly the same spot. Wound after wound passed through his mind, agony blooming. He pushed the pain aside, focusing on the sight of Strife slowly being healed. That was all that mattered.

Grinding his teeth behind his mask, Death tried to bear it all. It didn't matter he had impressive healing abilities, this was no stroll in the park by a fair margin. Nevertheless he held on Strife's head. He actually snarled as more wounds appeared on his body.

"Are you sure it's not too much?" Fury whispered, looking between her two elder brothers. Strife was looking infinitely better – which was not that hard – at the cost of Death looking like he had passed through a meat-grinder.

After a while, when Caim was sure that Strife could survive with the aid of normal healers, he touched his brother on his shoulder. "You can stop now, Azrael. More, and you two will overexhaust yourselves!"

He was answered by Azrael collapsing, for a moment blacking out in exhaustion.

Fury had been near, catching the angel and carefully lowering him the rest of the way.

"I'm fine..." The scholar weakly assured her, already trying to get back to his feet again.