Protect and Follow
By: MusketeerAdventure
Summary: Michael confronts the Prophet for the safety of Mallory and Laurel; Gabriel readies for his revenge; and Alex struggles with his emotions, as Michael teeters between two worlds.
Michael stared down at the self-professed prophet who sat and waited patiently in the pew for a response to his hidden threat. What was he to say to this turn of events? That his body lay back with the others in slumber while he lived this nightmare was only one of many bleak moments in his life. Over his lifespan, he had found himself in numerous precarious positions. With time, patience, and his family – he had been able to extricate himself. Learn from his mistakes; and move on.
This time however, he would have to do it alone; and quickly. Time was of the essence. Alex needed him.
He tried to hide his apprehension. Centuries of practice kept the distress from showing on his face; and seeping from his body. He had long ago learned to conceal his true emotions; to dissuade others from reading what he actually felt. It was a hard lesson learned – but necessary after many disappointments, tragedies; and betrayals. He had learned to trust few, and be wary of many.
To have seen Laurel – held her – felt her warmth against him; only to have her snatched away – tore at him; and left him raw. To show his weakness for her so early in this game would play into this stranger's hands. He recognized a gambler of fate when he saw one.
He shrugged his shoulders and asked again, "What is it you want of me?"
The Prophet leaned back, spread his long legs out before him, and adjusted the gallon hat atop his head, so that it tipped away from his forehead. "I want you archangel", he repeated. "You are the one who got away. Tricked me, and now you must pay the piper."
Michael frowned, and looked to the statue of the chosen one on the altar. No matter what this man had to say – he knew this was about Alex.
The Prophet leaned forward, and smiled sweetly. "There was order here Michael; rules to follow until you showed up. Everything was nice and neat – confession and sacrifice. You took the sins of this town – but sacrifice?"
Michael considered his words and restated firmly, "What do you want from me? How am I back in Mallory?"
"I brought you back here", he gloated through clenched teeth, "you owe me your life."
Michael crossed his arms, turned his back to this false prophet and faced the many icons of belief displayed below the painting of Mallory and the cross. Confession and sacrifice was what kept Mallory safe, but the sacrificing of the innocent ended centuries ago. Father no longer asked for the blood of the innocent to prove their faith. But Laurel had been so sure it was God who spoke to her; and he had believed in her faith. But if not God, then whose voice did she hear?
He peered over his shoulder and thought, this emissary was no true prophet; and he suspected not the protector he proclaimed to be. Someone else was part of this game; someone who wanted to harm the chosen one.
"You told these people that God protected them. You told them that He kept the flame alive through sacrifice." He turned and faced the teller of untruths. "Someone protects Mallory – but not you, I think. If you knew I tricked you, then why didn't you stamp out the fire and destroy the town?"
"You are a special case Michael", he hissed. "You broke your promise and now you must give your life."
Alex sat close to his friend and watched as the flames cast shadows across Michael's face. Intermittently he would frown, groan and say something low, he couldn't understand. He pulled the sleeping bag up to his shoulders to stave off the cool temperatures.
Relief flooded through him, that at least Michael lived, and did not seem in eminent danger. He touched Michael's shoulder and squeezed hard – hoping to illicit a response. When he got nothing, he sighed, turned away and stared into the flames.
He felt weary and disheartened. What could this affliction be? Noma had known Michael a long time; and confessed she had never seen him sick; injured maybe, hurt – perhaps even despondent – but never unwell. Whatever this was came as a shock to her – an unknown that left her baffled. Could this be an illness that only angels procured? If so, what could they do to help him?
"There's nothing we can do", Noma had murmured, "but give this time."
So, he would wait.
He would not leave Michael's side. No matter how long this took – he would sit here and be the first face Michael saw when he opened his eyes.
More than eight hours had passed since Pete had awoken them with panicked screams; and soon it would be morning. The sense of urgency to reach Vega was overwhelming, but with Michael felled like this – leaving was no longer an option.
He had made up his mind the moment Michael descended in front of that store and saved their lives that he would go no further in this journey without him. Not only was the archangel his mentor; protector – but also his friend. No, Michael was more than his friend – he was his family.
Next to him, Pete slept the sleep of the exhausted. His slow even breathing was a source of calmness that centered him, and helped him to think. He was grateful for the boy's loyalty – his strength of purpose; doggedness and belief in him.
He smiled slightly at how earlier in the evening, he had resorted to coercion in order to get him to lie down and rest. He played on Pete's worry for him; his wish to please – and felt only a twinge of guilt. If that's what it took to get him to sleep, then he would take it every time.
Pete needed rest. His battered body; fear for Michael and for what lay ahead weighing him down. Soon, he would not be able to function. All of them worn out and depleted would do them no good. Finally, he had succumbed to his urging – his sleep heavy and dreamless.
He looked across the flames at Noma as she fanned the flames with a broken tree limb. She appeared much better now. He could detect no signs of pain on her face, and she seemed to move much more fluidly without hunching over. And though she kept vigil with him, he noticed she had moved away from his side – telling him she would keep the fire burning.
But he knew something else was bothering her. She was tense around Michael – her agitation evident in the way she spoke to him; or didn't speak to him. It was as if she were avoiding him – even now. She looked uneasy in her own skin – reluctant to speak of her sacrifice. She was closing in on herself, and he didn't know how to get her to open up.
He studied his three friends in turn, and then thought of Claire and his unborn child. When he thought of them – a pain clenched at his heart and brought him up short. He wondered about this and thought about that moment in the woods – weeks ago – beneath the willow trees and how the pain struck him there as well without warning.
Was this a sign of some sort? Had something happened to Claire? Were they already too late to save Vega?
Michael moaned in his unnatural slumber, and brought him out of his musings. He slid closer to his side; grabbed his hand and searched his face for any sign of waking. Instead, Michael grimaced briefly and then his face went smooth again – peaceful and unmarked by discomfort.
Was he in any pain? Or was he only dreaming? Whatever this was it worried him, and left him feeling adrift. He lifted Michael's hand, and pressed his palm to his heart. "You have to wake up Michael", he pleaded. "I can't do this without you."
Gabriel stood on the outskirts of Vega and caressed the amphora with giddy anticipation. Beside him stood the trusted Duma and his entourage of eight balls and obedient humans.
From this vantage point the city looked peaceful – untouched – a safe haven for thousands. The night sky, with the stars shining gave the scene an ethereal quality. He chuckled deep within his throat. How easily these little people could be deceived into thinking they had control over their own lives.
The hapless humans below – who were tearing themselves apart from within with civil disobedience, and discontent, had no idea what terror was about to rain down on them. He had witnessed the destruction of several buildings and an explosion that ripped the town in two. Given time, they would destroy themselves. But he hadn't the patience to wait.
He wanted – no needed vengeance sooner than later.
His eyes transformed to black and he released his wings to feel his power. Today would be the last day Vega would experience free will. Today, he would release the amphora and bring this city low with the darkness.
It would infest them, have them screaming in torment and leave them defenseless. His army waited only for his word to attack – and Duma would lead them in; take control – in his name.
He would kill Claire Reisen – and leave her rotting corpse on display to show Alex – the chosen one – who was in charge. He would show these people no mercy. Michael would be no match for his new found strength. He was the darkness; and the darkness was invincible.
He would show mankind that there was no one coming to save them – not Michael; not Father; and certainly not the chosen one. He was who they would look to now. Gabriel.
Duma stood steady at his side – ready to follow his every command. He looked to the sky and saw that soon it would be daylight. When the sun showed bright through the clouds, he would drop the devastation down on them, and watch them wallow in horror – in frightening delusion with glee.
Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and will leave a review to let me know what you think! Next up?: Michael faces down the Prophet; Gabriel unleashes the darkness; and a message sent by way of the markings is understood.