Sixpence

[maderr]

Chapter Eleven
Azrael's Prayer

Rabdos waited.

He stared up at the stars that, with but a single thought, would stop in their tracks for as long as he wished. Though he'd Fallen, he had retained that ability. He wasn't sure why, but he wasn't dumb enough to question it.

These days, it was as close to the stars as he would ever be.

The comfort was a hollow one.

He touched his fingers to his forehead, feeling the Star that thrummed there. It gave him the ability to travel freely between Hell and Earth; the most freedom he'd tasted since his Fall.

Briefly he considered just running - running until some angel or demon finally managed to catch him. He was strong enough he'd probably stay ahead of them for quite some time.

But he just wasn't up for it. He touched the Star again. He'd thought the freedom of the star would make him happier - instead it was more a slap in the face. Try as he might, he was never going to get the one thing he truly wanted.

He looked back up at the stars, eyes flashing as he made them stop. With the halting of the stars came the halting of time, setting him and whomever came after him outside of time and therefore unable to cause harm to any unsuspecting humans or creatures that might have otherwise ventured too close.

Who would be coming after him? Most likely Camael or Belial, unless Lucifer was pissed enough to come himself. But most likely he would get distracted by his angel lover and send his usual henchman to take care of him.

Not a happy thought. Rabdos was considered lethal, but he was a puppy compared to what Belial and Camael could do when they felt like doing something.

Maybe an angel would reach him first? That was wishful thinking if ever he'd heard it.

The soft sound of beating wings broke his reverie, and it was all Rabdos could do to keep his expression blank.

Azrael.

That wasn't fair. Not at all. "What do you want?"

"Gabriel's Star, to begin with."

"Too damn bad," Rabdos stood and nonchalantly brushed off his pants and shirt. He eyed the Archangel as he alighted on the roof of the dilapidated barn. "I'm not giving it to you or anyone else. Like I told Belial - take it from my corpse."

Azrael regarded him in silence, a small light flaring as he lit a fresh cigarette. "I'm not going to kill for a lousy Star."

"If it's lousy, then just let me have it."

"It doesn't belong to you," Azrael said calmly. "It belongs to Gabe. And despite his graciousness, he wants it back."

"Too. Damn. Bad." Rabdos said sharply.

Azrael sighed, "I really don't want to have to get into yet another fight with you, Rabdos."

"I don't see that we have any other options. You're all work and no play - and work means taking the Star back. And as I've refused to cooperate, that means a fight."

"Is that what always pissed you off?" Azrael asked, taking a slow drag. "That I had to work all the time? I didn't have a choice."

"So you said then, so you say now." Rabdos couldn't keep all the bitterness from his voice. "Archangel Azrael, the best and almost-perfect Angel of Death. So busy being great he forgot he had friends."

"Friend? Last I checked you were challenging me at every single turn."

Rabdos let out a soft 'che' and looked at the stars, avoiding Azrael's gaze. "You were more likely to pay attention to a threat than you were a friend…"

Unseen by the demon, pure shock flitted across Azrael's face. He gaped at Rabdos, cigarette all but forgotten in his fingers. Then something like finality settled on his face, as if he'd finally reached some decision. "You were never anything but trouble," he dropped his cigarette and stamped it out. "Your time in Hell only seems to have acerbated that trait. So you're not going to give back the Star?"

"For the millionth time, no" Rabdos rolled his eyes. "Damnation, do you Archslaves ever listen to anything?"

Azrael smiled strangely, as if he knew something Rabdos didn't. "More than you might think." He brandished his sword, the Poison on it hissing as it dripped from the tip of the blade to the creak wooden roof on which they were carefully standing.

In a burst of speed he launched himself at Rabdos deflected the Fallen's daggers and then abruptly discarded his own blade. He latched onto Rabdos' shoulders, shoving hard and sending them both falling hard to the ground. A few minutes of scrambling had Rabdos pinned beneath him, the Fallen unable to break free of Azrael's weight and hold.

He watched the Archangel with a mutinous frown, but Azrael wasn't paying him any mind. His eyes were closes, lips moving wordlessly as he spoke softly to himself.

Rabdos narrowed his eyes and renewed his struggles.

"Amen." Azrael finished softly, causing Rabdos to freeze.

"What did you do?"

"You'll see in a minute," Azrael's grip on his shoulders tightened as his eyes and wings seemed to shimmer with energy

A few beats of silence, as Rabdos tried to fight free of whatever energy was slowly thrumming through him.

Then Azrael began to scream, wings flaring on his back. Horrified, Rabdos again went still, completely lost. Until pain suddenly flared in his own body, and his screams joined those of the Archangel.

As the screams finally died, Rabdos stared wide-eyed at the Angel still pinning him down. Azrael's face was pale and tight with pain, sweat glistening as he panted for breath. "You…you shouldn't be able to do that," he finally managed to say, still disbelieving what the Archangel had done.

Azrael tried to smirk, but it came out a soft smile instead. He lifted a hand from Rabdos' shoulder to wipe away a tear from the Fallen's cheek. "As…I will it…so shall it be. This…is the gift…my Lord grants me." With that, Azrael collapsed onto Rabdos, out cold.

Rabdos reached up to wrap trembling arms around Azrael, trying and failing to shift the angel off him. Giving up, he instead ran his fingers along Azrael's back and the place where once there had been four wings and now were only two.

And on his own back, a pair of dark wings fading slowly from midnight to the same metallic gray of his own hair and eyes. But there to stay, Fallen or no, because an Archangel had gifted them to him.

Rabdos shifted slowly under him, moving one hand to stroke Azrael's cheek. Words of gratitude attempted to form on his lips, but they seemed somehow inadequate.

Once more he tried to move the two of them, finally gaining enough leverage to roll so that their positions were reversed and he could stretch Azrael out more comfortably on the ground. Brushing strands of hair, tracing the lines of his face, Rabdos then uncertainly flexed his new wings before sitting down in the grass, eyes flashing as he set the stars to moving again. Then he waited for Azrael to wake.



Azrael woke with a soft moan, wincing softly at the pain in his head and back. He felt in his coat pockets. "Ugh…where are my cigarettes?"

"Why did you do it?"

"What?" he blinked at Rabdos, who's cheeks were still marked with dried tears. "Cigarettes. Where are my cigarettes?"

"I think you crushed them when you sent us off the roof."

"That sucks." Azrael raked a hand through his hair and regarded Rabdos in silence. "Like them? They're pretty, all gray like that. More interesting than black, anyway."

"Why did you do it?" Rabdos frowned at him.

Azrael shrugged, "Seemed like a good idea at the time. Didn't think it would hurt that much. Remind me not to do it again." He grinned, "Not that I have anymore wings to spare, anyway."

"Would you stop being so flippant?"

"Only if I get my cigarettes."

Rabdos looked ready to kill him.

"So will you give back the Star now?"

"I already did," the Fallen said sullenly.

"And you're still here on Earth?" Azrael grinned, "How interesting. A free-roaming Demon. Wonder how that happened?"

"Hardly 'free' roaming." Rabdos narrowed his eyes, "What exactly is going on? You can't just give me wings."

"My head hurts like a bitch." He stretched carefully in the grass, propping his head with his arms. "As soon as the world stops dancing a jig, we're going to go buy me some more smokes."

Rabdos muttered a long string of curses beneath his breath.

Azrael smiled and finally took pity on him, "You have my wings, which means you're bound to me, sort of. I've been demoted, seeing as I'm attached to a Demon now." He chuckled, "I bet Israfel gets stuck doing my job until they figure out what to do with the two of us." He looked at Rabdos, "I guess for the time being we're on vacation."

"…We're stuck in a sort of limbo because you decided to give me your wings? Did you feel that sorry for me?"

"No…" Azrael looked at him unhappily. "You could try being grateful. I thought they were what you wanted."

Rabdos shook his head, avoiding Azrael's gaze. "You shouldn't have done it."

"I don't think a Demon should be telling what I should and shouldn't be doing." Azrael looked at him, His voice softened, humor fading. "Come on, Rab…I'm finally not working, I have a splitting headache and I'm all out of cigarettes. Could you at least say thank you and try to be nice?"

Gray eyes stared into midnight, until Rabdos jerked away, flustered. "Yeah." He looked back after a moment. "Thank you. I don't know why you bothered…but thank you."

"I deserve a nicer thanks than that," Azrael said with a grin.

Rabdos frowned.

In a sudden move the Fallen hadn't been expecting, Azrael reached up and latched a hand to the back of his neck, dragging the Fallen down on top of him, mashing their lips together.

Azrael softened the kiss a moment later, nibbling at Rabdos' lips and exploring his mouth, until Rabdos shuddered and pressed closer. "That's more like it," Azrael said with a teasing grin. "Is that why you were always so mad at me?"

For an answer, Rabdos punched him in the stomach and pulled away. "You're still too cocky." He launched himself into the air, rising rapidly into the sky.

Half groaning, half chuckling, Azrael pulled himself to his feet and chased after the Fallen.