August 1, 2007

  • From Hell to Hell: 19-20



    Hey kids! Look! Two new chapters! Yah, both Sara and I had writer's block and then some other stuff happened and yah. So, here ya go. :3 Enjoy.

    Chapter 19: Sara's Chapter

    ~ Two weeks later ~

    He had finally settled back into life in Hell. It wasn’t an odd experience, what with his memories returning one by one.

    Of course, as his memories returned, the experiences in Heaven became, once again, a chapter in his life made entirely of a large ink spill. Nothing serious, or legible, remained behind on the pages. After all, Vlad was there, quill in hand, to help write the future.

    He laughed at the silly imagery.

    “What are you so cheerful about today?” Vlad asked, rolling over to face the blonde.

    Azazel’s fluffy white wings, courtesy of Lucifer himself, twitched when he wiggled gleefully. “No reason,” he replied. “I mean, today isn’t our anniversary or anything.” The statement had a certain undertone, one Vlad was sure to notice.

    Vlad pushed himself up on his elbows and yawned. “Is that all? And here I thought it was something important.”

    Azazel rolled his eyes. “Some lover you are. Here I was slaving over your breakfast and letting you stay in bed.”

    “You aren’t cooking, you’re sitting in the bedroom.”

    The blonde rolled his eyes, huffing indignantly, before he glided from the room in a flurry of blue terracotta. “There’s coffee in the kitchen, if you choose to get up.”

    Vlad watched him leave. “I didn’t even mess up!” he wailed, when the door had closed.

    - -

    The others acknowledge him. On the off chance they did, however, the look was clearly disdainful. No one accepted him. Of course, he could hardly blame them.

    Crimes against their own were not accepted.

    Ivan glanced around his new quarters. Kaggren had graciously given him a private room; to protect his subjects from any damage invoked by rooming with a rat. It had hurt, to be called names, but the longer he remained in Hell, the colder he became.

    Hurt was gradually replaced with disgust; the one he loved had stuck him in this crater. When he closed his eyes, he could see the blonde devil grinning as he took his body and soul.

    Eventually, disgust melted into hatred. It festered, like a cyst pool in his mind, sending him images of power and promises of revenge. The shadow dug its poisonous fangs into him, each day growing in strength while its tendrils strangled and tugged his spirit.

    He pretended to be cheerful, waved every time he passed Azazel in the hall. Even after what he did, the blonde was still the only one who smiled in his presence. Vlad, of course, continued to glare. He even had the nerve to embrace the other protectively, as if shielding him from Ivan.

    It would be sweet to ruin them, but at a later time.

    - -

    “Vlad, you are one crazy bastard,” Yasuo commented, watching his friend move around the kitchen. Vlad glanced at the counter, which was covered in flour, before looking at his robes. These were also white.

    “I know you mean well, and Azazel will appreciate this, but…”

    Another glance, this time at the ‘cake’. “This isn’t edible,” he finally admitted.

    Yasuo patted his shoulder. “Do you both a favor. Let Azazel cook. He enjoys it. Then, when he‘s done, you could have him wear that cat outfit from the good old days.”

    Vlad glared at him darkly. “Shut up,” he said firmly.

    Yasuo continued to grin, despite the warning. “Where is blondie, anyway?”

    Vlad had no clue where his mate had gone. Azazel had disappeared with the promise of returning shortly. Of course, this had been hours ago. All the same, Vlad wasn’t worried. “Out and about,” he replied. “Look, if all you’re going to do is annoy me…”

    “Say no more, I’m gone,” Yasuo replied with a laugh. He left the disaster area, still grinning madly. “Much luck.”

    The door opened not twenty minutes later. Thankfully, the kitchen was clean, so Vlad could pretend the experience had never occurred and Azazel would be none the wiser.

    “I figured we’d have dinner on Earth tonight,” his mate was saying. “It’s a special occasion, after all.”

    Vlad nodded absently. “Sounds great.”

    “You aren’t listening to me.”

    “Of course I am.”

    Azazel snuck behind him and wrapped his arms around Vlad’s neck. “What’s wrong, dear? Something on your mind?”

    Vlad glanced one last time at the kitchen before smiling and giving Azazel a kiss. “Nothing at all. Happy anniversary.”


    Chapter Twenty: Crystal's (my) Chapter

    Azazel never thought that he'd ever feel more secure then he did at that moment. The weeks passed by so very fast, even his annaversery seemed to go by without much thought, even though Vlad did his hardest to make it as romantic as he could, with the dinner, flowers, and such. He had to admit that sometimes the other Fallen surprised him, that day being one of those instances, and even opted to cuddle with him rather then turn his mind to mush with sex. He never thought he'd see the day, but of course, Vlad had just almost lost him, so he guessed a few things were going to change a bit, some for the better.

    Wings surrounded him, his own white meshing with the contrasting black of Vlad's, both of them somehow entangling themselves in their sleep once again with Azazel comfortablely wrapped in a downy cacoon of warmth and security. He had to get up though, breakfast never made itself and he had a feeling that Vlad would appreciate the coffee, after staying up well into the night previous, going through paperwork that Kaggren thrust upon him. Even though they were just getting back to normal, Hell's business went on and Vlad had another assassination today to take care of too...he always was in a bad mood after those. Especially if they involved children which he would often bring back and add to Kaggren's ranks. It made him twitch inside, knowing full well what happened to him, and how he was almost killed by the hands of Michael.

    Slowly, as not to wake his slumbering companion, Azazel peeled himself away, fixing his robe and heading off into the kitchen to start breakfast. The sun had just peeked over the horizon, or so the sky told. His little home wouldn't see the rays for another few hours, one of the few downsides of being in this protective little valley. Either way, it was beautiful to behold, the lightening sky and the little touch of night that seemed to refuse to be pushed back by the light of day until it absolutely had to.

    Snickering at his own thoughts, Azazel started the coffee machine and looked at his brand new cookbook, wondering exactly what to make from his newest addition to his kingdom.

    **LOOK! A DRUNKEN DRACORN!!!! ...yah...me and Bethany were weird 10th graders...**

    Ivan spied into the window, watching the object that held his soul captive move around the kitchen, ever graceful  even with the new white appendages that were usually held for those still under Heaven's reign. His own had been stained violet, not even black since his soul wasn't complete, and he was looking at the one that held it. Why did he even give it to him? He knew then that he'd be betrayed, why had it hurt so much? Maybe because Michael had given him false hope that Azazel would be his and his alone for all eternity? That had to be it, but he couldn't bring himself to allow his hatred to dissipate for some reason, as if it was the only thing that drove him towards the future.

    He was rejected by the Angels, hated by the Fallen, and was watching the one who he done it for willingly bounce about his own home, making breakfast for someone that would always be higher then him, always hold a control over him that Ivan would never have. A respect he could never understand nor a love that he would ever know. What happened in Heaven...was that really Azazel? Or was it another of Michael's illusions?

    Growling, the irate Fallen teleported back to Hell, where he was given his usual looks of distaste and dis-ease. Yes, something told him that he deserved everything he had now, after all, at one point in time, he thought that it would never happen. Reality had a way of catching up to him though, and made him deal with the after effects of his actions. He couldn't bring himself to try to destroy Azazel and Vlad's relationship anymore, something tearing at him.

    It was happiness, the happiness of the one who held his soul captive. It made him want to shut himself up in his room and cry out all his frustrations.

    Because the one to bring out such an explosion of good feelings, wasn't him.

    **HAPPY JUICE AND HAPPY GRASS!! ...I need to tell her to type that story out and have you read it's crackness. ;P**

    Vlad went in, the home guarded heavily with rather strong Fallen, but they weren't old as he was nor as experienced. He took care of them swiftly and without a problem, well, much of one. He was kicked in the back once, but promptly took his dagger and slashed his assailant's throat, ending that threat once and for all. This was a simple job. Just take care of the head of some uprising and silence it for good. He had taken out the other key members, and all that was left was this poor bastard. Luckily, no children were involved. Even with a month passing by, he was too emotional to deal with the pleadings of children when he couldn't stand it in the first place. It always brought up bad memories...

    Walking out of the large mansion, cleaning the dagger with a stolen piece of cloth, Vlad made his way back to Kaggren, who praised him for a job well done once again. he didn't care. He just wanted to go home, to Azazel who he didn't like leaving alone anymore, and make sure everything was okay. Yes, he was sure that his mate thought it annoying, but he couldn't help it. He felt so helpless the last time, and he hated it. He needed to make sure that Azazel would be at home and okay. Not captured or being tortured or having Michael randomly at his house. He snorted at that thought. Michael wouldn't dare...

    He never left a meeting so fast.

    Arriving home, Vlad found everything in perfect shape, Azazel quietly painting in the living room, humming a soft melody that he swore that he once knew the words to but have forgotten with time. He loved the way Azazel relaxed when he done his artwork, one of the few things that he found the other Fallen doing that truly relaxed him. Smiling, he went and changed into some silk pajama pants and baggy white t-shirt before coming back out, and admiring the scene Azazel was working so intently on.

    "A sea scape this time?"

    Startled, Azazel jumped a little, looking behind him worriedly until he found Vlad was the one who was admiring his work. Blushing a bit for being caught off guard, Azazel went back to his canvas, fixing the small mistake he made in the water. It was of a lighthouse at sunset, the sea calm and lapping at the stony shore with dolphins jumping in the distance and two small children picking up sea shells on the sand. He rarely did such pictures, preferring landscapes of land areas, but from time to time, he'd do one, enjoying the easiness of painting water.

    "Don't scare me like that," Azazel scolded. "I really could have messed something up!"

    "The master artist, mess something up," Vlad joked. "Oh what a sad day that would be!"

    Azazel held back his glare, and continued to paint, intent on ignoring the Fallen of Shadows. It was a fun game, he had to admit, irritating the other with silence.

    "...I'm cut off again aren't I?"

    He didn't need Azazel's reassuring nod to know that, in fact, he was once again, in the dog house.