Vlad never noticed how large Hell was
until then. He never took the time to really think about all the
space in between the main cities and little settlements and the
torture sites that were rather spacious. And it was like looking for
one particular piece of sand in all of the wasteland, because that
would have been just as easy. Flying through the gusty winds, trying
his hardest to find her signature or even Bakuhatsu's, he found his
search hopeless.

“Damn you kid,” Vlad growled.
“Where in Hell are you?”

Trying to keep his spirits up was also
proving harder then he initially thought as well. With all this land
to cover by 'sundown', or when Hell was darker then it was at the
moment, he found that his hope and spirits were dwindling with each
wing beat. Shaking his head, he flew higher, trying to get the best
view of the area but also remaining aware of what was on the ground
below, if there was anything at all. He knew that calling out would
only draw unwanted attention to himself and opted not to do that for
his sake and hers if she were stupid enough to answer and give away
her location if she was in hiding from one of the many horrors Hell
had to offer.

Sighing, he kept up the search, trying
his hardest to find his lost charge. He could only hope that
Bakuhatsu was there with her to give her some sort of protection.
That or she regained some of her lost memories or even powers. He
would feel a little better if she had some of those back. It was a
long shot to hope so much, but he had to do something to keep his
spirits up so that he didn't give up. He only had a few precious
hours left before Kaggren's time limit would be up, and he needed to
get a lot of ground and air covered before that happened.

Finding his current location not
yielding anything that he would have found desirable, he allowed
himself to be carried up by the thermals to the faster upper
atmosphere. He always found it humorous how much Hell and the mortal
world had in common, and how they liked to go to the extremes with
those living in the planes. Taking one last sweeping look over the
area he had just looked over, he flew the other way, and hopefully,
towards his lost charge.

~~~~~~insert some sort of awesome scene
separator here~~~~

Sitting on his throne, looking out at
Hell, Kaggren got up, and started pacing once again. He was worried
that Vlad wouldn't find her, that she would once again be under the
Fallen of Ice's control. Of course, he was also a bit agitated that
neither the Head Dragon of Heaven or Hell had contacted him yet
since they were supposed to be watching her through this whole
ordeal. This wasn't supposed to happen. Everything was supposed to go
flawless and without much incident. At least, supernaturally speaking
anyway. Mortals always created problems amongst themselves and he
didn't bother with them, so they were without consequence.

However, what Noel was pulling was
pissing him off and pissing him off badly. He wasn't supposed to
interfere with his daughter's progress and he wasn't supposed to even
be such a plotting little Fallen. He was beginning to think that
maybe he should just destroy that whole race and throw all cares to
the winds of Hell as to what would happen to the Element of Ice if he
did it. Actually, he already knew. It would go fully to the Light,
balance would be disrupted, and he'd be punished. Oh no. Not like
being down here, having to deal with this little problem, and
worrying about it wasn't a punishment in itself.

Hadn't he already been through enough
the first time? He did have to watch his only daughter commit suicide
and then be punished for taking out what looked like over half of the
Dragons of Heaven with a few swipes of her hand. Given, watching
those Dragons drop from the sky like flies was pretty nice, seeing as
he was chased down by them multiple times in the Millennium Wars.
However, the after effects of that battle made even him cringe. And
then there was Raven, his once best friend and part time advisor, who
died by her hands. That look of glee in her eyes when she beheaded
him was sickening and now, the Leader of the Fallen of Flame, his
wife Luka, was mad at him for 'letting it happen', like he really
could have done something about it.

Holding his head in his hands for a
moment, he looked out one of the large windows, ever searching for
Vlad and hopefully, Senna. Maybe he should send out his message to
Namoki and have at least the Dragons of Hell looking for her...no. He
gave Vlad until sundown, and he would stick by that. However, as soon
as it was sundown, he would send out his search teams, a messenger to
Namoki, and hopefully find her in one piece and in good condition so
all he had to do was wipe her memory clean of this incident and it
would be over. But he had a feeling that it wouldn't happen like
that, since things down here never worked out the way he liked them
to.

~~~~~~insert some sort of awesome scene
separator here~~~~

Senna herself was curled up in a ball,
Bakuhatsu perched on her side keep look out as she concentrated on
keeping the barrier up and protecting the both of them. She felt that
someone was searching for them, even if she had no idea exactly who
or what was searching. Or their motives for doing so in all
actuality. However, she wasn't too keen on finding out if that meant
outstretching her neck in a place like this. She'd much rather just
try to keep the barrier up and running while trying to think of what
to do and how to protect herself from any danger that she was
constantly aware of.

Bakuhatsu sighed, looking in all
directions, trying his hardest not to leave an area unscanned for too
long so that there would be less of a chance for a sneak attack. He
had a sinking feeling that evil was near by and that he wouldn't be
able to protect Senna properly if he was to be caught off guard. He
knew that there were many beings in this place that could even defeat
a Dragon of Heaven, and a Red one at that. He had witnessed many of
his clan that would come back bruised and beaten and barely alive
from the terrors that they had come up against from this Plane.
Determined not to let anything happen, he kept his eyes open and ever
watching the ground and sky, trying to look out for danger.

Unfortunately, he found something that
he hoped not to see. Something in the sky above them, even if he
could barely make out the shape through the swirling sands that
constantly blew around them. He didn't like that one bit, since as it
drew closer, he had a feeling that it wasn't Vlad that was coming to
them, but one of the enemy, whatever the enemy was. Growling, even if
it was a feeble attempt, he watched as Kaishana landed gracefully,
walking rather boredly to the place where Senna had erected the
barrier, smiling a smile that foretold of misfortune.

“So this is the little Angel of
Oblivion,” she sneered. “The one Noel seems to want so badly in
his grasp. I don't see what's so special about you. A lot of mortals
from your dimension can call upon Dragons, but you, he thinks
something is special about you. Now, why do you think that is?”

Bakuhatsu growled threatening at the
Demon, trying to get Senna out of her trance that she had fallen
into. The barrier was still up, so that meant that she was
concentrating on keeping it up. He was her only line of defense at
the moment, and he didn't like the prospect of that at all.

“Oh what do we have here,” Kaishana
giggled, kneeling right in front of the barriers edge. “A little
Dragon of Heaven! So small and cute, are you the one Namor sent? Hm
little guy? You look so out of place here, with your streamline body
and bright colors. You'd think he'd send in a beast that would have
blended in more of the scenery, hm? Looks like his mind is dulling in
his old age.”

Snapping his jaws, Bakuhatsu hissed at
this Demon. He didn't like her at all, seeing as she seemed to be
arrogant and just insulted the High Dragon of Heaven like it was
nothing. He would have liked nothing more then to bite her head off,
even if it was a bit of an impossibility.

“Kaishana!”

Looking up, both of them watched Vlad
land on the other side of the barrier, figure distorted by the
turquoise, green, and white barrier. Bakuhatsu chirped in joy as Vlad
stepped around, and looked at Kaishana, who had a scowl on her face.
The two had faced off a few times before, especially during the time
that the Fallen of Ice were choosing their new leader. The two never
liked each other, and this just added fuel to the fire.

“She's not going with you.”

“And what are you going to do,”
Kaishana growled. “Take her back to Kaggren? I don't think so. We
worked too hard to plot and get her here, we're not going to give it
up.”

Narrowing his eyes, Vlad reached down
and took Kaishana by the throat, and held her up so she was face to
face with him. “Well, looks like you're going to have to, because
I'm not backing down.”

Smiling Kaishana looked the Fallen of
Shadow right in the eye. Did he really think that she needed air to
breathe? Ha. She wasn't a mortal and she sure wasn't just any Demon.
She was one of the first created, well, created right anyway. There
were many of those that died in the process and were even still
around, the mistakes of the past that refused to just lay somewhere
and die. She was one of the strong, one of the Wind that lived and
had plans to live even longer.

“You should know better, Vlad,”
Kaishana smiled, spreading leathery wings wide. “Because we have a
rather lengthy history now don't we? You should know I don't need
air.”

“I know that,” Vlad growled out. “I
just needed some way to get your attention.”

“Hurry it up,” Kaishana said,
rolling her eyes. “I'm already tired of this. I just want to take
the girl and go.”

“You are not taking my charge,”
Vlad replied harshly, eyes narrowing as he tightened his grip. “She
is my responsibility and I am not going to allow you to lay a finger
on her.”

“Nice speech,” Kaisha said boredly,
even going so far as to sneak a yawn in it. “I'd clap if I had the
chance. However, I don't have time for this chatter. Noel is
expecting me back with the girl and I can't let him down. He is,
after all, the one I sworn allegiance to him, and I can't let him
down.”

Flapping her wings, she created a large gust that
threatened to blow her out of Vlad's grip, however the Fallen refused
to let go. The Wind Demon growled, face scrunching up and bared
elongated teeth showing dangerously. Eyes seemed to glow as her rage
skyrocketed, something that would have many other beings running in
fear of what she was promising to do to them, but Vlad didn't let go,
nor did he give any indication of letting go. She never liked him
nor his persistence at such things, and this was one of the times
that she felt that she hated him the most.

Senna, still in her trance, vaguely
watched as the sand blew up against the barrier, creating blotches of
white in the changing colors as it hit the edges. The wind whipped
around her, but she couldn't break her concentration. It was
dangerous to be outside the barrier, she found that out when she
dared to venture out of it. Bakuhatsu growled at the blowing sands,
that the barrier refused to let through. He didn't like this, he
doubted that Vlad would be able to hold out very long, but he had
been wrong before. Oh he hoped that he wasn't wrong now...

Growling, sharpened nails digging into
the flesh of the demon's neck, Vlad's eyes focused on the rivets of
blood that were going down her neck. Satisfaction shown through the
blue-gray tinted eyes, clouded over with the desire to kill. That was
what made him one of Kaggren's best assassins, he lived for the
thrill of the hunt and didn't give up until the other was dead either
by his hands or because of some sort of weapon. The sand blasted
around him, but he didn't feel it almost at all. Adrenaline high, he
wouldn't feel any pain until it died down, which in the back of his
mind, he couldn't help thinking about.

Kaisha growled right back, feeling her
flesh penetrated by the sharp nails. Instinct riding over reason, she
had to get away. Run, this one was too strong for her at the moment,
just get away and live and be back, stronger so she could beat him.
Biting the arm that was closest to her, she swung her tail around,
smacking Vlad in the face, she howled as the nails were painfully
ripped from her throat, falling back as she kicked Vlad away from her
and folding her wings so that she didn't hurt them. They were her
greatest tool for escape, and she really didn't need to get them
hurt.

Vlad himself didn't expect her tail in
his face, nor to be pushed backwards like that. Landing on the hot
sands, in the back of his mind he thought of how hard the sand would
be to get out of his feathers, but that thought was quickly dismissed
as he focused now on getting to Senna. He watched as Kaisha made a
mad dash for the barrier, and tried to get to her first. He ended up
grabbing her ankle, and getting his head knocked around by a wing,
however, he didn't let go.

Growling, flipping over on her stomach,
she sat up and had her tail wrap around Vlad's throat and began to
squeeze. Vlad choked, and clawed at the smooth black tail, streaking
it with red. Roaring, Kaisha picked him up by her tail and threw him
away like a rag doll, and proceeded to get up herself, and run
towards the barrier. She had to get the girl, she couldn't disappoint
Noel.

Bakuhatsu growled as she approached,
and flew over the barrier, landing just outside of it and hissing. He
was the last line of defense, and he knew it. However, looking into
Kaisha's eyes froze him. Never look into the eyes of a Demon, for
they can freeze even the bravest of hearts and souls. He
heard the sound of Namor's voice as he just watched Kaisha jump him
and the barrier, and then as Kaisha stole a lethargic, spellbound
Senna off in Hell's night.

Michael was unaware of the changes, no matter what Azazel thought. With every step toward the bedroom, uncertainty rose in his throat, doom sank its fangs into the deepest corners of his mind.
 
Still, Michael continued on. He opened the door, startling the blonde fallen and his companion. The arch angel gazed at Ivan, who was a being of two worlds, bound by Azazel’s hold to the hellish realm, yet trapped in heaven by Michael’s will.
 
“Ivan,” Michael said calmly, “you have to help me fight. Without you, Azazel will be lost again.”
 
Ivan glanced to Azazel, who remained silent, and nodded. Anything to save the one he loved.
 
Michael returned the nod, then strode past him. He placed a hand on Azazel’s forehead, whispering all the while an enchantment.
 
Red and black feathers faded until they had a radiant white luster. Cold, hate-filled silver eyes gave way to foggy confusion, as the blonde fell back onto the bed.
 
Azazel, the fallen, was no more.
 
- -
   
Nimora listened to what Kaggren had to say silently. “Ssso,” she hissed when the Fallen had finished. “Michael has finally overstepped his boundssss.” Her smile was so wide, Kaggren could count each individual fang. Her forked tongue wiped across her lips as she thought. “Lovely."
 
Kaggren wasn’t one to be surprised by Nimora’s behavior. “Does this mean you’ll help me?”
 
Nimora’s eyes glittered. “Of coursssse not,” she replied. “I plan to sssit here and watch the fight."
 
Kaggren’s face must have shown how disappointed he was, because Nimora laughed at him. “You ssseem upset, Kaggren. Did I catch you off guard?”
 
“No more so than usual. Though, I asked for help-”
 
“You always were the uselesss one.”
 
Kaggren sighed deeply. “Nimora…”
 
The dragon queen raised a clawed hand. “I will help you, Kaggren. Just thiss once.”
 
Kaggren’s grin slowly grew to match hers.
 
- -
 
Vlad entered the throne room, just as Kaggren was closing the connection with Nimora. “Vlad,” Kaggren greeted. “Good to see you’re back on your feet. After all, we can’t spend too much time moping.”
 
Vlad didn’t even bother to roll his eyes. He stared at Kaggren blankly. “We don’t believe warring with Michael is a good idea.” Beside him, Yasuo nodded.
 
“What do you suggest we do then?” Kaggren asked.
 
“Wait him out. Azazel will come back on his own,” Yasuo replied. “Unless, of course, he decides he likes heaven more. Though, why he would choose the place over this underground dump is beyond me.”
 
"It doesn't matter," Michael told them. "Nimora is on her way with her troops. This is going to happen, no matter what you two think."
 
- -
 
His mother of pearl armor glistened in the spreading red and orange light of the coming dawn. The sunrise behind his figure cast a shadow larger than life across his army of dozens. His golden helm outshone any other in the ranks, the silver wing on either side showed the world who he was.
 
This was a man of war; a war his enemy was not prepared to fight.
 
All around him, angels stood at rapt attention, not stirring, hardly breathing at all. Each waited for instructions to travel forth into the underworld. Beside the leader, stood his second in command.
 
Though his armor was hardly a comparison to the king’s, he stood out all the same. With a battle cry, he thrust his weapon into the air, trusting the soldiers would follow suit.
 
Cheers filled the encampment, each piling on another, creating a chorus of hatred and vengeance. The strength was exhilarating to all. Yet, the leader was still not assured.
 
“We do not stop until none remain!” he announced, raising his spread hands into the air. “Let every last one of those dogs feel the sting of your blade!”
 
A portal to the underworld was opened, allowing angels to surge into hell.
 
Right into a situation none of them could have foreseen.

Hell was nothing like the Angels had every hoped to witness before in their immortal lives. They entered the plane, under a dark blue sky, and hot heavy wind raked across a barren wasteland. Dried up land, cracks allowing glimpses into the underbelly of the next level, where the screams seemed to come from every which way. Screeching laughter seemed to come from nowhere, to disappear just as suddenly, as to through them off guard. Everywhere there seemed to be shadows growing and shrinking, foretelling that they were hiding creatures that would love nothing more then to chew on their pure souls, and they promised it would be painful.

Azazel stood still, looking over the scene before him. This looked so familiar, so very familiar that it was making his head spin. Had he been here before? No, he couldn't have been! He had been in Heaven his whole existence as an immortal, never treading on this unholy ground every before! Always under Michael's direction, always with Ivan at his side and hiding their forbidden love for each other under his very nose. Never here...he couldn't have ever been...or could he?

“Azazel,” Ivan asked in a hushed voice, trying not to worry the troops of Angels that were shifting from foot to foot uneasily. “Azazel, what's wrong?”

“Have I ever been here before,” he asked, silver eyes wide and wild. “Please...tell me I've never been here before!”

Ivan looked at Azazel mournfully. He felt the overwhelming familiarity of this place, the confusion that Azazel was feeling right at that moment. Could he lie? Would Azazel know if he were? Clapping a hand on his shoulder, Ivan smiled his brightest, trying to reassure him.

“That you have, on a few missions before,” Ivan replied. “We had to make you forget so that you wouldn't be the blabbering, shaking mess you were when you came back. Don't worry, I won't let that happen to you.”

There was a moment of serenity between the two, Ivan offering his support to the other, and Azazel taking it without abandon. That is, until the portal broke behind them, and the glaring face of the second highest ranking Dragon of Heaven flew into the air, along with her clan, and the clans of those that she was able to gather in her short amount of time.

“This does not concern you Nimora,” Azazel yelled, standing up.

The majestic beast landed on the hard ground, talons raking the stone like it was nothing but paper. Deadly golden eyes peered from under four large silver horns on a narrow head. Body of scales, colored Turquoise, and painted with green sigmoid led the other Dragons of Heaven with the same green writing, although of different base colors. Creamy white feather wings spread out in their full glory were acting like a barrier in between the two races.

“Welcome to Purgatory,” Nimora hissed. “The resssting placcce of many of you, sssince you jussst can't be good little Angelsss and fight only when there is truly a war.”

“The Millennium wars were won by us, and we have come to finish off what we should have at the treaty ceromonies.”

“Killing them will do nothing,” Nimora replied. “Trusst me. On thisss.”

Running at the Millennium Dragon, famous for her brutality and having no abandon for the enemy, Azazel could hear the rest of the army behind him, always his support. Ivan was by his side, facing the army of Dragons.

“Heaven fighting against itself,” Yasuo sighed, watching from a rather safe vantage point, hovering above the scene. “Haven't seen this in a long time.”

Vlad said nothing, only watch the scene below. Azazel was leading them, with strange white wings. So much like he imagined him before he Fell, yet just as out of reach of him.

“Vlad?”

“It's nothing,” he sighed, turning away. “We should tell Kaggren that they breeched purgatory.”

Nodding, Yasuo nodded, watching Nimora slaughter half of the army with one swipe of a massive claw, and a roar that made him twitch.

*Insert some sort of AWESOME scene separator here*

“WHAT?!?”

“Michael, the Dragons have all gathered,” an Angel said, slightly bowing and scowl on his perfect face. “They demand we recoil. They say Nimora and her forces have already met Azazel and the others. Your plan is failing.”

“This cannot happen,” Michael growled out. “I have waited too long, sacrificed too much to let this happen.”

“Sir, there's nothing we can do about it. The Dragons have already started to attack,” a new face said, battered, singed, and barely making it through the doors. “And half of the army's back here, trying to heal. We're loosing.”

“And Azazel?”

“I don't know.”

This wasn't going according to plan at all, and he didn't like that one bit.

*Insert some sort of AWESOME scene separator here*

Only two were left. Two of the thousands that entered Hell. Nimora hadn't lost one of her Dragons, something that she was extremely proud of. That meant the younger ones were becoming stronger, which meant that soon, one might challenge her for her position. Well, maybe not that far, but it meant that soon, there would be no more unauthorized entries into Heaven, since their jobs were to scout the lands just before the Gates, and make sure that nothing that wasn't supposed to be there was trying to get in. Or one of the prisoners accidentally getting out.

Azazel was left panting, one arm broken and the rest of him bloodstained. Ivan was beside him, and looking worse for wear. Nimora puffed out some smoke in pride, and stepped forward, her army behind her. “Never enter again, Azzzazzzel,” she warned. “Or next time, you will not esssscape so eassily.”

With that, the portal opened, and she and her army were gone.

He stared at the closing portal silently until something clicked in his head. “Wait! How do you know who I am?” he shouted, though it was obviously a worthless effort. With nothing but the howling wind in his ears, Azazel sank to the ground, cradling his arm.

“We should find Michael,” Ivan commented, sitting next to him. “He’ll want to know we’re alive and in one piece.” The angel looked down at his blood spattered robes. Deep scratches in his skin showed through the tears in the material. “Mostly one piece, anyway.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that.”

Both angels looked up. Ivan’s eyes narrowed, while Azazel’s widened in surprise. He had never seen a Fallen so close before.

The Fallen’s black hair was whipped about in the wind, his expression darkened enough to match Ivan’s. “Did you think this crazy idea would work too?” he growled, dragging Ivan to his feet, “Or are you simply playing games?” When Ivan refused to answer, he growled again. “Answer me!”

“Let him go!” Azazel exclaimed, climbing to his feet with some effort. “Just, leave him alone.”

The Fallen glanced at him, aquamarine eyes hard. “Sorry. Not even for you. He’s been pissing me off for far too long.”

Without another word, the Fallen turned on his heel and dragged Ivan across the field.

“Wait! Where are you taking him?!”

He could almost hear the sigh of frustration. “Azazel, if there was ever a time for you to not question something, now would be it.”

Azazel moved quicker than anyone would have expected from someone in his condition. “No! I’m tired of not being told anything!” He was acting like a child, he knew. “Where are you taking him?”

The Fallen sighed. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course not!” What a stupid question!

“Then you can come with. How does that sound? That way, I won’t break my orders, and you’ll still find out. Okay?”

Azazel mulled the idea over in his head. Perhaps wherever Ivan was going, he could find some answers. “Alright.”

- -

It was a throne room twice the size of Michael’s. The walls were stone and bare of all decorations except for one or two torches, which cast light into all corners of the room.

“Vlad, did you get him?”

Carelessly, Vlad tossed his prisoner on the ground in front of Kaggren, much to Azazel’s distress. He began to move, but Vlad grabbed his arm and held him back.

Razors sliced through his nerves in one fell swoop, forcing Azazel to grit his teeth against the scream. He didn’t dare try to yank free, for fear of causing more damage. He needn’t have worried, however. Vlad released him with a rushed apology. “I’m sorry. I should have made sure you weren’t hurt. We should get you to a healer.”

“No one is going anywhere until we have this sorted out,” a booming voice commanded, freezing everyone.

All eyes turned on the man seated on the throne. He glared at each of them in turn, demanding complete silence. “Now then.” His eyes settled on the huddled, shuddering form of Ivan. “Explain yourself.”

“I c-came here with M-m-”

“I know who you came here with, and I know why you came! That isn’t what I asked!”

Ivan stopped shivering to stare at him. “Then, what did you ask…?”

“That’s Kaggren,” Vlad whispered to Azazel while the king debated his answer. “You know, the leader of us? Remember him?”

Azazel shook his head, then returned his attention to Kaggren.

“Why take Azazel?” Kaggren asked, leaning forward. “What was your reward?”

- -

Michael glared at the crowd of Fallen. His plan had been torn to shreds, no thanks to Nimora, and he now had nowhere to run.

Except heaven, of course. With the few surviving angels following him, the arch angel created a portal and made his escape.

“My reward was him as my own as it should have been from the start,” Ivan growled. “That was the only thing I gained, I lost everything for that.”

“You became a Fallen yourself for that,” Kaggren pondered, looking at Ivan. “And why was that? You do realize that once Michael closed the Gates, that Azazel was out of reach of you, and the fact that he and Vlad were a couple, you broke them apart with no abandon to get what you want.”

“Michael said...”

“Michael lied,” Kaggren interrupted. “He wanted us whipped from existence and you were a perfect little pawn. Azazel used to be his favored toy before you, and now both of you are here.”

Azazel just stared in front of him, not believing any of the words that were coming from Ivan's mouth. He...was tricked? No, but he had never been here before, never met these Fallen in all his existence, why did they insist that he was one of them? His wings were different, but they were white, a symbol of his purity. Why....why would they be any other color? He was an Angel...wasn't he?

“Both...”

“You seem to have done something to condemn yourself here,” Kaggren replied. “And so, I guess I am your leader as of now. Give me the antidote to Azazel's condition.”

“I don't know,” Ivan admitted. “Michael used quite a few spells, I'm not even sure of where to begin...”

To see the hatred in Kaggren's eyes at the moment was to graze into the Devil's himself as he was cast out of Heaven's Gates. Michael dared to mess with one of his subjects. One that it was his duty to protect and not allow anything to happen to. And there was the possibility if he tried to many things to fix it, Azazel would never be the same, not like he would in the first place. He had an idea of which spells though, since over the millenia, Michael still hadn't changed all too much with his methods. Something he was turning out to be grateful for.

Standing up, walking over to Azazel, he placed a hand on the other's head, allowing him to be able to go through the other's mind and therefore determine exactly what Michael did. It was a quick fix, seeing as very few things couldn't be undone by those of the Shadows, especially one as old as he was. Except he couldn't really guarantee that Azazel would come out of it the same. There were always risks when playing with spells such as these, and he was afraid that Michael didn't care about such risks, and therefore threw all caution to the wind.

Vlad watched with mounting eagerness to see if Azazel would be alright. He watched as Kaggren closed his eyes and knew that he was going to be walking through the shadows of Azazel's mind, to try to put everything back in order and disspell some of what Michael had done to him. He glared at Ivan who was watching with equal worry in his eyes. He had no right to worry, he had helped in getting him like this, like something he never was.

“Vlad, I'm sure he'll be all right,” Yasuo said, laying a hand on the other's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. “After all, he's a lot stronger then most people give him credit for.”

“I know,” Vlad sighed. “But remember what they're capable of. Sure, we haven't been up there for so long, but I still remember some of their magic. Some of the more potent ones.”

“You were once in Heaven,” Ivan said, grimmicing. “Glad I wasn't around.”

Snorting, it took all Vlad had not to kill the new Fallen right then and there. This was mostly his fault, for taking Azazel away and then...well, he didn't want to think about it. He wanted Ivan to pay for what he had done, what he put them all through. He also wanted to take some rage out on Michael for even plotting against them like he did.

“Don't speak,” Vlad growled at him, eyes promising pain, and lots of it. “You're in no position to speak.”

“But...” Another glare shut him right up. Yasuo almost pitied him. He went for one he loved while, himself, watched Vlad find his own, and continued to try to be happy for him. He sort of envied him, even if he was nothing but a pawn.

Azazel's gasp broke the strained silence of the room, drawing all the attention to himself and Kaggren. Kaggren sighed and blinked as he held his head, Azazel fell back into the waiting arms of Vlad, who looked worriedly at him. Azazel smiled up at him, as his wings changed back into being black with red tips.

“I guess I'm back,” he smiled.

Vlad turned him around and hugged him, nuzzling his neck as he took in a deep breath. He did not cry, but he sure as hell was close to it.

“Kaggren, for the last time, I am not going to just hand him over. End of discussion.”

Through the mirror, Kaggren glared at his nemesis. “You only took him to start a war,” he stated, leaning forward on his throne. “You’re playing with fire.”

Michael smiled. “Of course I am. He is, after all, a fire angel.”

“That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.” Kaggren seemed to be on his last nerve. His eyes glinted dangerously, but Michael wasn’t concerned in the least.

The angel yawned. “He’s a valuable weapon.”

“So you keep saying. He means more to us than to you, though.” It was Vlad, this time, who had spoken up. He glared darkly at Michael. “Do you have him locked up somewhere?”

“Quite the contrary,” Michael replied with a grin. “He’s in his room, resting. Mating has always taken so much energy from the boy. Though, from Ivan’s responses, it was well worth the effort.”

The arch angel closed the connection before Vlad could fully comprehend what had been said.

- -

Sunlight poured into the room, giving life to the specks of dust dancing around the atmosphere.Ivan sat on the bed, watching his companion. He sighed heavily, running his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t made a mistake last night, per say. Though, was falling really worth it?

Azazel opened an eye and peered up at him. “What are you looking at?” he asked, groggily.

Definitely worth it.

“You,” Ivan replied. “Do you mind?”

The other fallen smiled slightly and pushed him self into sitting position. “It depends on why you’re staring at me.”

Ivan shrugged. “Because I can. How are you feeling?”

Azazel looked confused at first. As realization slowly sank in, however, his eyes grew wide. “Oh.. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what happened, what came over me!”

Ivan pulled Azazel into a tight hug. “No regrets,” he whispered. “None at all.”

“I took your-”

“I gave it freely. Now, if we’re done with this guilt trip, I’m rather hungry.”

Azazel watched him closely as Ivan stood up. “What are you planning?”

“I’m hurt, Azazel. To think I would be up to something!”

“You don’t live by trusting others.”

Ivan snorted. “Or, maybe you do. I gave you my soul. The least you could do is give me your trust.”

Azazel’s eyes narrowed slightly. It was then Ivan realized how hard it would be to have a strong, lasting relationship with the fallen. “Did you trust Vlad?” he asked, returning the glare.

There was the look again. “Who?” Azazel asked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ivan sighed. “Never mind. Are you coming with me to breakfast, dear?”

Azazel was already out of the bed, however, and had slipped his robes on. “Don’t call me ‘dear’,” he replied, gliding past Ivan. “It isn’t something a corrupt should say.”

“What would you rather me call you, then?”

Azazel grinned, sinister and feral. “I own you, Ivan. Remember that.”

When the door closed, Ivan slammed his fist into the wood. “You don’t own me!” he shouted. “I’m a free person!”

If the denial hadn’t been so strong, Ivan would have heard the “If you say so”, followed by melodic laughter.

- -

Azazel breezed into the office as if it were his own. “Michael,” he greeted coldly.

The older angel stood from his chair. He noted Azazel’s new wings with more than an air of concern. “Azazel, when did you…”

Azazel smiled. “Last night.” He leaned over Michael’s desk. “Why? Jealous?”

Michael frowned deeply. “You’re rather cocky today, aren’t you.”

Azazel shrugged. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t be. After all, I am dragging your soldiers out from under you, one pathetic fool at a time.”

Darkness. The only thing that would be able to comfort him now was all around him, shifting degrees of its state, but always there, hiding him from the planes and enabling him to think all of this through. After hearing about Ivan and Azazel, he just needed to escape and melted into the shadows, to figure all of this out. Azazel would never do that to him, and he didn't trust Ivan enough not to try anything. But no one else knew that when Azazel wanted something, he could get it, or get away from it. He was stronger then he let on, something that very few knew about him.

So that meant...no. It didn't make sense to him. Why would Azazel consent to something like that? Nothing seemed to add up, unless they did something to Azazel, which wasn't that far off of a possibility. God help whoever did that to him. First they took him, and now, they apparently messed with his mind enough to screw around with Ivan. That fact killed him the most, that of all likelihoods, he was forgotten.

Wrapping his wings around himself, Vlad allowed himself to float in the darkness, alone in the planes like he once was, but now knowing the loss of once having companionship.

*Insert some sort of AWESOME scene separator here*

Kaggren held his face in his hands and exhaled. This was not playing into his hands very well. His armies were gathered and restless, numbering well above what they once were since he held three Houses. But this still wasn't putting his mind at ease. Michael was being rather confident, which meant the Arch Angel had a plan, and he had a feeling that attacking would put him in a position that would hinder his attempts at getting Azazel back.

Even then, he still wanted to know exactly why Azazel was wanted back in Heaven, especially after Michael threw him out. Did he know just how shattered and dangerous Azazel really was? Sometimes, he worried for Vlad's safety with the other Fallen, but when he seen Azazel's eyes, full of trust and comfort anytime he glanced at Vlad, he knew that his right hand man was fine.

Love. Something that he was even hesitant to think about. However, that led him to another thought. Nimora. She would help him, perhaps. Maybe a few millenia of a cool down would be enough. After all, he had a feeling that she still didn't forgive him for their daughter's creation.

Opening up a communications circle, he looked into the face of the woman he hadn't seen in so many years.

“High Dragon Nimora.”

“Kaggren.”

*Insert some sort of AWESOME scene separator here*

“Yasuo,” Scorn yelled, trying to catch up with the other Fallen. “Yasuo! We can't find Vlad anywhere...”

“You act as if I would know his whereabouts,” the Fallen replied coldly to the much younger Fallen of the Flame. “I haven't seen very much of him since the one that is missing came here.”

“Jealous?”

“Why do you want to know where he's at,” Yasuo growled, icy green eyes glaring into brighter green ones. “As I said, I haven't seen much of him at all.”

“Kaggren wanted to know,” Scorn replied, turning away, shaggy red/orange hair following the movement. “Just following orders.”

Watching the young one walk away, Yasuo sighed. He knew exactly where Vlad was, he was his best friend for a long time after all. He just never knew that he was falling for him until it was too late, and even now he couldn't forgive himself for his own ignorance. He was able to not allow his jealousy get in the way of his friendship, or at least tried very hard not to let it. There was no use to fight the way the cards fell, just pick them up and get over it.

Vlad most likely went into his hiding place in the shadows. It was something that he did from way back in the days where they all lived in Heaven's embrace. When something went wrong or he just needed to get away from everything to think, he would go to his own little 'shadow world' and not allow himself to be found. Yasuo knew how to get there, and most likely how to coax him out, but he didn't feel that it was time yet. From what came down the grape vine, Vlad got quite a shock to his system, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for his old friend.

Heaven's still full of contradictions, he thought to himself. And if what I heard is true, Azazel is going to be bringing back another Fallen for our ranks.

*Insert some sort of AWESOME scene separator here*

Azazel was feeling better then he had the whole time that he was in Heaven, finally feeling like he had gained some sort of ground against Michael. Ivan was his, the others soul absorbed into his and hell, he even could boast he had the idiots heart. Things were finally going his way. So he could go back to Hell and...and who/whatever made his sadistic little mind happy.

Shutting the door to his room, he let out a happy sigh. It felt good to be somewhat in control of his destiny again, even if it was an illusion. He had a sinking feeling that Michael wasn't to surprised at Ivan, which meant that he knew that one point or another, the Angel of Wind would Fall. That fact saddened him a little, but not too much. He may have found something in Hell that could have made him at peace, like he had.

Looking around, he noted that Ivan wasn't in the room, but could tell he was nearby. How, he wasn't so sure, he just sort of knew. A perk of having someone's soul? He didn't know. He was just happy that his darker side was pleased and his lighter side was smiling with satisfaction. Both content at his actions, instead of fighting one another for the moment. Must have been the wings. Yah. He'd blame it on the wings.

*Insert some sort of AWESOME scene separator here*

“You've been in there long enough,” Yasuo said, forcing light to spread into Vlad's shadowed world. “Sulking isn't doing anything for you.”

“Leave me be,” Vlad hissed, covering his eyes. “I'm not ready to face it out there yet.”

“Look, if what I heard is true, you got to get over it,” Yasuo replied. “Now come on. You're not going to get any answers just hanging out in there. It's been three days, Vlad. Hell, even Kaggren's getting worried.”

“That bastard's always worried about something,” Vlad grumbled, stepping out of his sanctuary. “Any news?”

“None that I've heard,” Yasuo replied.

Vlad looked at the honey-blonde angel that stood before him, the living contradiction of color. Violet wings, green eyes, long blonde hair that was held high in a ponytail, and robes of rich navy blues and violets. He looked more like a Fallen of the Wind then of the Shadows. He could always count on Yasuo to be his guiding hand, the one to slap him across the face when he's gone too far, kick in him the ass when he didn't go far enough, and drag him out of his despair when he fell into that pit. He couldn't have asked for a better friend.

“We've got to prepare for battle then,” Vlad said darkly. “If it's a war Michael wants, it's a war Michael gets.”

“Is that wise, to give in,” Yasuo asked. “I say wait it out a few more days. Wouldn't you want Michael in a panic that you wouldn't war with him to get Azazel back?”

“Always the strategist.”

“Always the stubborn asshole.”

*Insert some sort of AWESOME scene separator here*

Ivan was in bliss. Complete and utter bliss. Curling up next to Azazel, he felt that he'd never tire of the other's form around him, nor the fact that he was his. It was taking awhile to realize that yes, in fact, he had little will of his own now, and he was going to Hell when this whole thing was said and done. But that didn't matter in moments of tranquility like this. All that mattered was that he was comfortable and he was with the one that he looked at for so long.

“You need to stop holding back,” Azazel murmured, nuzzling Ivan's hair. “I want Heaven to know how loud you can be.”

“Azazel,” Ivan whined. “But that would mean getting caught.”

“Afraid some might enjoy the show?”

“Azazel!”

“You're too easy to tease,” Azazel chuckled. “Little prude.”

Blushing, Ivan turned away, rolling over to the other side.

“You act like that's going to hurt me.”

“Shut up.”

Curling around him, Azazel let an arm drape over Ivan's stomach and the other one pull him against his chest. Curling a wing over them, Azazel nuzzled Ivan's hair again, taking in a deep breath. “I was only teasing.”

“I know,” Ivan yawned.

Smiling, Azazel watched as Ivan drifted off to sleep, but something in the back of his mind screaming that this was wrong, and he should have someone else lying in his arms.

It was dark again, the pitch black curtain that seemed to hang over his vision. Only a few splashes of sun that could get through the thick blinds and heavy drapes clued him in that yet another day had passed, that he wasted one more day of his life behind these shutters and lying here in this room. Was this what his life had become? Nothing more then just Mason's chew toy, although he figured that it could be worse. He slept so long this time...how many days had passed him by? He hoped that it wasn't a week again. If it was, that would mean that he would have spent six months of the year and a half unconscious, and that thought didn't go over very well in his mind at all.

Mason was snuggled behind him, he could feel the cold dead weight on his backside. Why the hell did that vampire insist of doing that? Had he no idea how sick he was of him? How much he wanted to just kill him and get on with his own life? However, this last drain on him left him weak, and therefore not able to do much of anything. Sighing, he pulled the blankets tighter to his thin frame, closing his eyes tightly and tried to think of anything except the beginnings of Mason's waking state.

Before long, he felt a heavy arm drape over his waist, and the familiar feel of the back of his neck being nuzzled lovingly. He hated this. He hated this whole situation. He wanted out of this situation and be free again, whatever that was. He couldn't remember any of his life up to his capture, nothing of his younger days nor of his family or what happened to him that made him homeless and out on the streets. Such easy prey to someone like Mason, to just be plucked off and no one would seem to care.

“Good morning,” Mason purred as he began to fully regain consciousness. “Sleep well? I hope you did, you were out for nearly three nights...I guess next time I shouldn't take so much, hm?”

It took all Azazel had not to shudder in disgust, especially when Mason pulled him closer and rested his head on his. It was better for him to just lay still and not reply. He didn't need to get smacked around like Mason had done before, even if it was because he tried to commit suicide multiple times. What was the point of living when all you had to look forward to was another day living as a stranger to the world, and trapped in one room, with the one being that you hated with all of your heart and soul? He wanted so much to break away, but he was so weak now. Maybe not eating wasn't the best idea in the world for him to do...

“You look so pale,” Mason sighed. “You should really eat something. I don't need to you dying on me, ever.”

The thought of being stuck here forever with him made Azazel want to slit his wrists right then and there. Hell, living with the one that invaded his dreams a few nights before had to be better then this torture. At least he was coming forward and trying to comfort him rather then to keep him under constant control. Plus, there was a bit of nostalgia when he looked at the face, but he quickly switched back to the present, finding himself suddenly sitting up and with Mason basically shoving oatmeal down his throat.

After most of the bowel was gone, Mason was satisfied that Azazel had enough, but still looked so pale, even to him. A human should have never looked as pale as Azazel was, and that thought scared him. He was not loosing another to death's embrace, not so soon after it took Morgan. He wasn't going to allow Azazel fall under too, he just wouldn't be able to live with that kind of pain again, even if he never truly got over it in the first place.

Holding up a tall cup of orange juice with a straw poking from the top, Mason held it up to Azazel's lips, pleading look on his face. One that Azazel had never before witnessed or even hoped even existed in this world.

“Please,” he said, not putting pressure on it. “I don't want to loose you like I lost him...”

Taking the straw and drinking, he wanted to know who exactly Mason lost, but didn't want to stop drinking to do it. His body craved the vitamins that the juice provided and he couldn't deny it any longer. He would ask when he was done...and already he was sucking air. Apparently more thirsty then he thought he was.

Smiling, Mason hugged him, making Azazel stiffen. Okay. This was way too weird. Usually, Mason wanted little to nothing to do with him, but tonight seemed to be an odd one. Was this a dream? He could only hope that he awoke soon, so that his miserable life could get back on track.

“Death won't get you,” Mason said, hugging him tighter. “I've been blind to you and your suffering too long, deep within my own. I won't let death take you like he took him!”

“Who,” Azazel asked, looked at the head that was buried in his shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

“Morgan,” Mason muttered. “He was my mate, killed by Hunters when we were hunting. I escaped with a few minor injuries, and we both thought that his were just as harmless. I held him as he truly died, never to return. His ashes are in a vase, only I will ever know the location of my private alter...that's why I went searching, and found you so lost and alone...like myself....”

Too weird. Way too flipping weird for his taste. He wanted to do nothing more then break free, go sit in a corner and stare at the one who made his life a living hell for so long, and was suddenly reminiscing about an old lover and taking him in. What the hell was going on? This had to be the anniversary. There was no way that anything else could hope to explain Mason's erratic behavior.

“Never leave me like he did,” Mason continued. “Never die. Maybe Vlad is right, maybe you and him are meant to be together, but then who am I to be with? Or am I meant to live alone, forever in mourning?”

Okay. This was really making him feel uncomfortable. It only made him hope that this was just a dream, and he would wake up to a flogging for no apparent reason. At least that would make some sort of sense. This only made Mason seem just that more emotionally unstable, something he was finding out rather quickly he didn't like.

Running his fingers along the two marks on Azazel's neck, Mason smirked. “I don't care what anyone says. As long as you're here, you're mine. They can try to come get you, win you over, but you're mine! Unless they get you to go with them, you're mine...”

Azazel didn't like this. He wanted to go back out onto the streets where things actually made a little more sense then this. Amnesia was commonplace and was often looked at as treatable. If he ever got out of this situation, the first thing he was going to do was get a job and start seeing a therapist. Scratch that. MULTIPLE therapists.

“What do you think about that,” Mason asked, playing with Azazel's hair. “Let those who want you try to get you? It would be better then living with a brute like me, forcing you to be under my control. Quickly, before I drown in my sorrow again, hide before my masks of hate and violence. Tell me, what do you think.”

“I like the idea,” Azazel replied, feeling Mason hug tighter. “It'll let me at least choose where my life is going to take me.”

Releasing him, smiling, Mason truly looked like a perfect human, a demon in an angel's body. “As long as you're okay with it. You'll still sleep here, be awake with me at night, and keep me company. I won't let my evil side out, the jealous side. I can't...I've hurt so many...”

Okay. He really needed to know what had happened in the three days he was out like a log. Apparently, he was missing something and something really important. Whatever it was, it was making Mason act all funny and it was scaring him more then comforting him. Well, if it allowed him to choose his own destiny, who was he to really complain?

“You'll find another,” Azazel reassured him. “Maybe your old lover in a new body?”

“I can only hope,” Mason sighed. “Now, you stay here and regain your strength. I'm going off to visit a few of the coven leaders that have expressed interest in you. As a warning, your life is going to get rather interesting.”

Smiling, for the first time since he had been captured, evil gleam in his eye, Azazel looked Mason straight in the eye. “Tell them to bring it, because truthfully, I've had enough of you and your games.”

~*scene change*~

Vlad sat in his recliner, smiling. Azazel was going to be his again, because like hell that he'd ever let the others win his other half. Ever.

The answer came soon enough.

“Azazel,” Michael whispered, unchaining the blonde and pulling him into a tight hug. “I thought you were lost to us forever.”

Azazel fought against him and broke free. “You threw me out,” he said. “I fell. I fell! And I met…” here, he paused. Who had he met? “I met…”

Michael moved to Azazel again. “You weren’t tossed out,” he said gently. “You were captured in a fight and dragged out. I, we, tried to rescue you, but it was too late. You’ve been held captive in Hell for many years. They stole your wings and-”

“I FELL! I want to go home! I want to go home!” Azazel screeched, grabbing his head to block Michael‘s voice.

This is home… No, something wasn’t right. People didn’t talk to him! Angels, and Fallen alike, shunned him, acted like he didn’t exist. He belonged in the deepest hole possible with…

Why couldn’t he remember?!

Ivan crept closer to the irate Fallen and wrapped his arms around him. “Shh…” he cooed. “It’s alright.”

Azazel turned to him with wild eyes. “No! Don’t touch me!” he exclaimed, tears staining his face. No matter how he fought, however, Ivan refused to let go. Eventually, Azazel seemed to realize this and he slipped back into his previous stoic state.

“Your memories have been altered,” Michael told the blonde. “Kaggren had one of his lackeys cast a spell on you. Even as we speak, I have the smartest angels working on a charm to return you to normal.”

Azazel nodded slowly. “And my wings?”

Michael sighed. “I’m afraid nothing can be done about those. The operator was very efficient.”

Everyone was silent while Azazel processed the information. “Who did this to me?” he asked at length.

“His name is Vlad.”

- -

Kaggren sighed and leaned back in his throne. Yet another soldier with bad news. When was this going to end?

After almost a hundred years, he was used to the petite blonde running around, laughing when others screwed up. He enjoyed tormenting the poor boy.

The door to his throne room opened and, against his better judgment, Kaggren held his breath, waiting for the one person he didn’t really expect to see.

“Master Kaggren?”

“What?!“ Kaggren snarled. The fallen in front of him shrank back a bit, cowering from the king’s voice. “Sir, I-”

“If you don’t have any information, go away.”

Both the Fallen and Kaggren turned to Vlad.

“I thought you went to lay down,” Kaggren commented.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Vlad replied with a shrug. He took his place next to the king and glared at Kaggren’s visitor. “Well?”

With a bow, the fallen left, muttering to himself.

“He may have had something very important to say,” Kaggren complained.

Vlad stared blankly at him before turning back to face the front. “He may have.”

Kaggren sighed again. “We know where he is, it’s just a matter of getting him.”

“And if we can’t? Who knows what sort of crap they’re filling his head with! And what if we do get him back? He isn’t going to be the same.”

Kaggren nodded. “We will cross the bridge when we come to it. You may be wrong. Azazel could be perfectly fine.” Even to himself, he didn’t sound very assured.

- -

“Sir, you told him he was innocent when he returned…”

Michael smiled at Ivan as he shut the door to his office. “I know.”

“But you just…”

Michael nodded.

Ivan rubbed his forehead. “I’m getting a headache.”

“Yes, just think of how Azazel must be feeling.”

Ivan looked up, eyebrows furrowed. “Sir?”

“He’ll need some comfort, of course. Someone who knows what he’s going through.” The arch angel leaned close to his subordinate’s ear. “Someone like you."

Ivan got the hint and nodded. “Yes sir. I’ll rejoin him now.”

Michael nodded again. “Go show him how much you care.”

When Ivan had left, Michael smiled. “The more he trusts you, the less he’ll remember Vlad. We want him to hate the fallen, after all. What good is a soldier who loves the enemy?”

Ivan knocked on Azazel's door, peeking inside timidly at the cowering figure on the bed. Instead of being in the middle of the room, which was now dark and lit only by dim candlelight and the feeble light of the ever-changing nightscapes, it was pushed up against the far wall, inbetween the corner and a small desk. Azazel, he guessed, was in the pile of blankets that were pushed into the corner, since he swore that he could see a glimpse of silver out from some of the folds. It pained him to know that he had a hand in this, that he was the one who helped to confuse the poor Fallen so much. Although, Michael had been right about one thing, they were in the same situation. Lost, confused, and no one to turn to since there was no one to really trust that wouldn't rat out his 'disloyalties'.

“Azazel,” Ivan spoke softly, letting himself in. “Azazel?”

The hovered figure didn't move or even acknowledge that the other had entered. He stayed in his corner, perfectly still, so much so that Ivan began to think that he imagined the hint of silver. But then, there was really no other place for Azazel to go.

“Azazel,” Ivan whispered, creeping a little closer.

“Stay away,” Azazel whispered back, voice raspy and strained. “Just...stay away.”

“I”m not going to hurt you,” Ivan said softly. “I'm here to help you...”

“I'm fine,” Azazel muttered. “Now leave.”

“I don't believe it,” Ivan retorted. “You were down there so long, endured so many hardships. We finally have you back here and I'm not going...”

“Don't,” Azazel pleaded. “It wasn't that bad...”

“Don't say it wasn't,” Ivan shouted. “It was created for a purpose and is the worst place in all the realms! It had to be bad. I had to be strong to throw you off, but I can't anymore! I can't imagine you back down there in that place...”

“I was there and happy,” Azazel growled. “It's fuzzy and whether it's from the gunk you and Michael poured down my throat or it really was a spell, I don't recall who I was with that made it that way. But I remember my feelings, and they were happy and the closest to perfect that I could ever be.”

Ivan stared at the lump in horror, wondering exactly what he was doing. He really was happy? It wasn't just an illusion? It was far too late to go back now, and he would have to live with the consequences.

Climbing onto the bed, ignoring the flinching figure in the darkness, Ivan hugged the lump of blankets, wrapping his wings around what his arms couldn't.

“You're not alone,” he said in a hushed tone. “I don't know what's going on, nor what will happen. Everything about you is a mystery to me. I know you don't want to be here, but it's where you've always belonged. I watched you for so long, waiting for the right moment, waiting to catch your eyes even for a brief second, but when you disappeared, I was lost and forced to work my way up until maybe I'd be able to see you again.

“And when Michael offered to get you back, how could I refuse?”

“You...like me,” Azazel asked timidly, lifting his head and forcing the blankets off it and his shoulders. In the dim firelight, he held a firey aura around him. “I...I...never...”

“I hid in the shadows,” Ivan admitted, hugging the blankets and Azazel tighter. “I hid until it was too late.”

Moving his arms our of his cocoon, Azazel hugged Ivan closer. He never knew, never suspected that anyone was watching him, that anyone was going to miss him as he watched Heaven fall away. All he could remember was the faces of hatred, the burning eyes that laughed at him as he Fell from Grace. And yet, there was one that missed him. One that watched and was saddened as he was cast out. Michael could say what he wanted, Azazel knew that he Fell and that was hatred in his eyes. But as long as he had one Angel on his side, one that didn't hate him, but was the direct opposite. One that cared about him, his well being, and loved him? Would he go that far to think that?

“Why,” Azazel asked. “Why are you the only one that seems to care? When everyone else hates me, casts me away, why do you seem to cling to me?”

“I don't know,” Ivan replied. “I'm different. I can control my heart?”

“At least one wasn't turned against me, Azazel murmured, burring his face into Ivan's hair. “One that wasn't laughing like they were.”

“They laughed at you?”

“All of them. I Fell, Michael thinks that he's fooling me, but I know I fell. He was the one who pushed me out of the Gates, with the others laughing. Then, I found happiness, even if I can't remember who or what they did to heal me. Now it seems I'm back and I have no idea what for.”

He didn't change. Michael had failed already and he would never tell. He felt dirty now, bringing him back here. Was he really helping him, making him forget about Vlad and the life he had when he was cast out? But there was no turning back, none at all.

“I don't know, but I can't complain,” Ivan said truthfully. “When I found out I was going to retrieve you, I really thought that I'd have a chance, although now, it seems that I've ruined ti with my own selfishness.”

“You didn't know,” Azazel murmured. “you're in the shadows as much as I am.”

Looking up, Ivan decided that it was now or never. He wanted to bad to show him that it was going to be alright, even if it really was never going to be. That he would be there for Azazel, even if it meant Falling with him.

Sitting up a little, Ivan let his lips graze over Azazel's, not able to hold it in any longer. He needed a sure way to let the captured know that someone did care, did want to exist and be happy. Pulling away, he didn't expect Azazel to capture his chin and kiss him with a ferocity that he never known. All he wanted to do was reassure him, it seemed that Azazel had other plans for him.

Pulling back, Azazel's eyes burned into Ivan's, the latter feeling a shiver of excitement course through him. Wings shivered and sounded like soft, far away chimes. Leaning into the crook of his neck, Azazel leaned onto Ivan, letting his fingers graze over the center of Ivan's shoulder blades, teasing rather sensitive skin.

“How much do you want this,” Azazel asked, allowing his hands to play with the feathers protruding from Ivan's robes. “How much do you truly want this?”

“Take me,” Ivan groaned, clutching Azazel close. “I can't wait anymore.”

“You'll be sinner,” Azazel replied, softly nipping at tender flesh. “You'll be hated like me.”

“Let them hate me,” Ivan responded, arching as Azazel's hands wandered over his back. “Just as long as this isn't a dream. Just as long as I'm real, you're real, this is real.”

Grinning, Azazel pulled away abruptly, pushing a very surprised Ivan onto the bed and leaning on him. Smirking, Azazel ground his hips into Ivan's, relishing the feel of his erection against the other's, even through the barriers of their robes.

Ivan's head pushed back into the bed as his neck arched and he groaned. Was this the way he envisioned it? Were Azazel's eyes glowing with dark satisfaction like that? No, never, and that meant that this was real, and not another fantasy.

Never to leave an opportunity pass by, Azazel began to attack Ivan's exposed neck; nipping, kissing, and licking his captive into a writhing, moaning mess. Of course, Azazel was being a tad vocal himself as he felt Ivan's hands wander where ever they pleased, which was over the two scars that were where his wings once were, making him gas. His wings may have been gone, but his nerves seemed to work just fine, and he wasn't going to be the first to complain.

Opening Ivan's robes, Azazel raked his nails down the Angel's chest, hard enough to leave red marks, but not enough to draw blood. Ivan shivered underneath him, wings chiming as they curled slightly over themselves. Licking each nipple before straddling Ivan's hips and sitting up, he smirked as he looked at the one he was going to drag to Hell with him. Face flushed in a high blush, chest heaving with erect nipples as eh panted, the evidence of a very erect lower member, all this made his grin dark and wide, making Ivan shudder.

Playing with the golden chord that tied around Ivan's middle, Azazel held a bored look on his face. Ivan looked at him curiosity, as he watched his chord slip through Azazel's fingers. What was the already Fallen thinking?

“What should I do,” Azazel sighed, bringing one of the ends of the rope to his eyes, examining it before lightly brushing it over his lips. “You're so willing, but something is still making me uneasy. Trust is hard to come by, and being kept here against my will isn't exactly trust material.

“I know,” he grinned darkly, dropping the chord and climbing over Ivan until they were face to face, noses almost touching. “Prove to me that you are truly mine.”

“Anything,” Ivan replied sincerely. “I'll give you anything...”

“Your soul,” Azazel replied, moving to the side to nip at his ear. “Give me that and I shall have no more doubts.”

“What is mine is yours,” Ivan groaned. “I, Ivan Winters, Angel of the Wind, underling of Arch Angel Michael, give you, Azazel, my Fallen Angel of the Flame, my soul. To do with what you will.”

Gasping, Ivan could feel it slip out of him, his soul slowing becoming one with Azazel's. He never noticed his eyes becoming darker shade of brown, wings fading to a shimmering gray-blue, or his hair streaking itself with white. Taking in a shuddering breath, he looked into the silver eyes that haunted him for the longest time, and fell for them all over again, finding it so much easier to do now.

Azazel on the other hand wasn't having such a good time. Merging hurt like hell and then the scars were his wings once were began to burn. Looking into the dark brown, almost black eyes, he leaned into Ivan's neck, panting heavily as he felt his skin breaking and hearing the fabric of his robes rip wasn't reassuring him that everything was going to be alright.

Burying his nose Ivan's neck he inhaled the scent of lavender, mage, and other spices that he us couldn't name at the moment. The scent was soothing and made the pain bearable and not as severe.

When the pain dulled, he found himself looking at a very long feather. Red tips melted into black, their size about twenty of a normal feather. Six of these feathers protruded from each scar, being able to move individually or as a group. He had wings again. A different version, but wings all the same.

“Looks I gave you wings too,” Ivan said, brining a hand to one and stroking it lightly. “They're beautiful. Are they what they were going to look like in Hell?”

The sensation of the touch went right to his already hard cock, making Azazel groan and grind his hips into Ivan, who gasped in response. Sitting quick to disburse Ivan and himself of their robes, he was far to gone to care about going slow and whatnot. He wanted Ivan screaming his name in pleasurable agony and he wanted it now.

Grinning like a mad man, Ivan himself naked as the day he was born and harder then he ever thought possible. Feeling Azazel lightly drag his nails against his sides, making him wiggle and arch into the light carassess. If there was any doubt in his mind, it was now gone, dissolved right with his reason.

As Azazel nipped at sensitive skin, he was wondering exactly what he was going to use for lubrication. He just obtained Ivan's soul and didn't exactly want to take him dry. There was scented oil on a desk that was within arms reach. That would work as a substitute. And, if he recalled correctly, really felt nice too. Wait. When did that happen? Figuring that he could sort through his jumbled memories later, he climbed over Ivan to retrieve the bowl, almost dropping it as Ivan licked his stomach.

“You taste good,” Ivan snickered, letting his tounge leisurely trace a path along Azazel's flesh.

“Glad I do,” Azazel replied, dragging himself back, placing the bowl down carefully and shivering as Ivan allowed his tounge to drag along Azazel as he moved. As Azazel settled, he kissed the breath out of Ivan, revenge for the torment he was causing him.

Pulling himself up again, he stuck his fingers in the scented oil, and settled so that his head was inbetween Ivan's legs. Spreading them with the unlubed hand, he allowed himself to slip a finger in as he licked the underside of Ivan's rock hard length. Gasping, Ivan chose to focus on Azazel's tounge rather then the odd sensation of a finger wiggling around inside of him. Adding a second finger, Azazel licked the tip of Ivan's erection, earning a rather vocal moan.

Neither of them noticed the crack in the door, nor the quiet close or the pattering of fast feet down the hall. Micheal just had the show of a lifetime in that one glimpse, and was sure to never make the mistake of Ivan's moaning to be that of pain.

Unaware of their discovery, Azazel scissored the two, and slipped in a third as he enveloped his mouth over Ivan's member. Ivan gasped and moaned between the assault on his front and back. He was displeased to feel such an odd sensation go as he felt the fingers come out of him. However, he soon found himself released from the front and being picked up by the hips, and his portal set right up against Azazel's throbbing member.

Pushing himself onto the length, head being thrown back s he slowly impaled himself on a silent command. Azazel himself groaned as he felt himself slowly being encased in warmth that was Ivan's ass. Stilling after he was sure that all of Azazel was where he wanted him for so long, Ivan relished the feeling of being filled, no matter how much it was aching.

Sitting up, changing the angle, he felt Azazel's member brush against a rather sensitive spot that left him without vision and stunned. Whatever the hell that was, he wanted to feel that sensation again. Raising himself slightly, he gasped as that spot within him was stroked again.

“You like that,” Azazel growled.

“Yeeeeeeeeessss,” Ivan hissed, impaling himself again.

Grinning, breath hitching as Ivan engulfed him again, the virgin tightness intoxicating, he lost himself in instinct. Throwing his body weight into Ivan, pushing them both down, Azazel began to thrust widely, making Ivan squirm and gasp beneath him. He wasn't all too quiet either, grunting and groaning with each thrust.

Grabbing onto Ivan's member, Azazel rapidly began pumping it desperately, wanting, no, needing to hear Ivan scream. He told himself that he would make him scream, and he was determined to do it.

Duel assault, neither of them soft, turned him into a writing, panting, and wildly moaning mess. It wasn't long after Azazel found a hard but steady rhythm that he started shouting.

“Fuck me...,” Ivan screamed, feeling the pressure build up inside of him. “Harder...faster...”

Eyes narrowing in lust and guilty pleasure, Azazel pulled most of the way out, only to slam back in and pump Ivan harder. “Like that?”

“God...yes,” Ivan whimpered.

“Scream it,” Azazel growled, pulling out again. “I want to hear you scream it.”

“Azazel,” Ivan screamed, spilling his seed all over them both as he felt the spot inside of him stimulated and having his member pumped again.

Groaning, it didn't take Azazel long to finish, with the hot tightness growing even more delicious with Ivan's orgasm. Once, twice, three times pushing in and out and he groaned his release, feathers fully extended, head thrown back with eyes closed, the most beautiful sight that Ivan every seen.

“You're mine,” Azazel grinned, licking off the drying seed off Ivan's stomach and chest and then laying next to him. Curling a wing around him, Azazel smiled for the first time since he returned. “A Fallen with no soul.”

“I have no regrets,” Ivan smiled, wrapping his arms around Azazel's waist, leaning his forehead on his chest. “Although I think you will need more sheets and scented oil.”

“Worry about those later,” Azazel yawned, eyes closing.

“Can do,” Ivan replied, drifting off to the best sleep he had in years.

Ivan sighed and leaned harder against the windowsill. He had so many thoughts going through his head, he didn’t know which one to chase first. He was concerned for his love, who was foremost in his mind, but was also upset because Azazel felt the same way for another.

Ivan looked up at the clear, starry sky. “I wonder what he’s doing, right now. Is he looking up at the stars, like I am?”

When the door to his room opened, Ivan wasn’t surprised in the least. “Master Michael wants to know why you are sitting on your ass rather than out searching for him.”

Ivan glanced at the angel before turning back to the sky. “I’m thinking about very important matters,” he replied. “I was just about to leave.” He climbed through the window onto his balcony and, without another word, flew off.

- -

The waterfall roared louder in the stillness of night, which was perfectly fine for the tired blonde. He looked around his cave, for the third time, and continued to brush his hair. He had bathed in the lake, which was wonderfully relaxing.

He was free, as free as he could get anyway, and alone. Not a person was around to bother him. Unfortunately, though the Azazel of old would have welcomed the aloofness, this Azazel craved companionship.

“When I get back to Hell, I’m giving Kaggren a piece of my mind,” he muttered with a determined nod. “And Vlad too,” he added as an after thought.

Shouts in the distance startled him, and Azazel whirled toward the noise. He could see a group of torches flickering on shore. “Morons,” he snorted. “They could wake a deaf man. How stealthy do they think they are?”

“One can never tell with the lower angels.”

This voice was closer to his ear. Azazel knew the voice in a second, though. “Ivan!” he almost shrieked. “What are you- How did you-?!”

Behind him, the brunette chuckled. “I sit here quite frequently. There’s an entrance way at the end of this tunnel.”

Tunnel? When did it become a tunnel? Azazel looked at him, panic clearly written on his features. Ivan, however, smiled brightly. “I just came to take you home,” he said. “We’ll get you some new robes and-”

“No. Leave me alone!”

“Azazel, please.”

“No!” Azazel exclaimed, reaching for a pouch on his belt. He pulled a small red sphere from the pouch and brought it to his lips. “I’m not going anywhere with you, or anyone else for that matter!”

“It will only be until we release you from his hold. Then you can go wherever you please.” Ivan grabbed his wrist, forcing Azazel to drop the small bomb he held. “What will it hurt?”

Azazel’s attention wasn’t on him, however. It was on the ball, which had landed on the floor. Ivan had enough time to look down before the area flooded with light and they were both thrown against the wall.

Azazel took the brunt of the explosion, having no wings to protect himself with. He shielded his head from the crumbling rock and debris, and, choking on dust, looked around to see if Ivan was alright.

Ivan was fine enough to knock him unconscious.

- -

By the time he woke up, Azazel was strapped to a table. Michael watched with interest as the blonde fought to clear his vision. The arch angel glanced at Ivan, who was vigorously mixing herbs in a bowl. “Hurry up,” Michael said. “He’s waking up.”

“Oh,” Ivan made a tiny sound in the back of his throat before moving next to Azazel. “I wish you had stayed asleep. It would be so much easier.”

“If you don’t let me go,” Azazel growled, glaring at them both, “I’m going to make you wish you had never existed.”

Ivan set the bowl down near Azazel’s head and ran his hand down the blonde’s face. “But love, you’ll feel better when we’re done. Though, I’m afraid releasing you from a spell is a bit painful.”

“I’m not under a spell! Damn it, Ivan, let me GO!”

Ivan looked taken aback. “Azazel, please calm down.”

“Like hell I’m going to calm down!” Azazel shrieked, fighting against his bonds. “Ivan, I swear, I’ll-”

Michael had had enough. He grabbed Azazel’s head with one hand and held his mouth open with the other. “Pour it down his throat,” he said. “I want this over with.”

Ivan nodded and poured the contents of the bowl into Azazel’s mouth. After a few seconds of sputtering, Azazel swallowed and glared at them both. “See?” he asked. “I’m not un…der a…”

The room started spinning uncontrollably, so Azazel shut his eyes tightly. Perhaps, he mused to himself, the room wasn’t spinning after all. Maybe the whole world had stopped spinning and he, himself, was twirling on an axis. Either way, he desperately wanted to throw up.

“Michael, sir, he doesn’t look too well…”

Michael and Ivan watched as Azazel arched and shuddered, as if his muscles were under no control. Finally, after an eternity, he stilled. Ivan moved to lean over him, but Michael held his arm in front of the curious angel. “He is free,” he said simply, before exiting the room.

Ivan had his doubts, so he continued to stare down at Azazel’s face. When those pale lids snapped open, revealing the insane silver eyes, Ivan was so surprised, he stumbled backward.

The maniacal laughter wafting toward him was a larger surprise still.

He kept hearing funny voices in his head, voices that made him burst out in random fits of laughter. They kept shouting that he was guilty, and that alone made him burst our even more. Guilty? Dare they even try to condemn him, the one who Fallen already and would most likely again? He, the scapegoat of this divine place and favorite of Michael's toys? Of course he was guilty! Guilty of every damnable thing that happened.

At least in Hell, he found that even if nothing was trustworthy, at least there were definite rules. Although they were silent , not written in any book, they were there and followed like they were the ultimate truth. This place, he had learned the hard way, that there were no such set of rules. Only contradictions that surrounded the ones given.

“Maybe Lucifer was right,” Azazel cackled. “It is better to rule then to serve!”

Ivan watched in horror as Azazel continued to mutter blasphemies, only to cackle after each utterance of them. What was it that Michael had him make? What was going on with the once passive and fearful being that he felt he was growing closer and closer to? It wasn't the first time that he felt like a pawn, especially after falling into Michael's high command.

“Azazel,” Ivan whispered softly, daring to creep towards the table. “Azazel, what's wrong?”

“I'm guilty,” Azazel laughed, voice growing frantic and shrill. “I'm guilty! Guilty, guilty, guilty!”

Looking into the wild silver eyes, Ivan had never feared a Wingless Angel until that moment. He had learned that they were very dangerous and it was now that he was learning that the stories were true. Magically enhanced, more prone to insanity, and unpredictable. Azazel was going through all of them at the moment. That scarred him, the fact that Vlad was able to accept Azazel no matter what. But would he be able to?

“Michael,” Ivan said, watching the Arch Angel leave the room. “What are we doing? Why is he unstable...”

“It's for my cause,” Michael replied, siting. “Keep an eye on him and inform me if and when his condition changes.”

Bowing, Ivan turned back to the cackling Azazel, pity in his eyes.

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“Damn it,” Vlad growled, slamming his fists on the wall. There was nothing that he could do at the moment, seeing as there was a block on Azazel's mind and he, therefore, couldn't speak to him.

Flopping on the bed, he groaned into the pillows, a headache forming from the stress. Michael had thought this through, and rather well. Azazel no longer was sane, that was for sure, and that made him worry even more. Would he be able to heal him again after this or would he forever be striving for the progress that he was finally able to gain? Taking in a deep breath, Vlad put his arm over his eyes, trying in vain to keep the headache at bay.

“Why you,” he sighed. “Why do they want you?”

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“Master,” Ivan said, walking into the brightly lit room where Michael was occupying. “He's quieted down and sleeping.”

“Good,” Michael smiled. “Then that means that the real Azazel is going to show himself soon. You have done very well, Ivan. Soon, it will be time for your reward.”

“My reward,” Ivan said in a surprised tone. “I don't understand...”

“You will soon enough,” Michael said, fiddling with some of his loose feathers. “You will see.”

Able to do nothing more then nod, Ivan kept his gave on the soft brown carpet while he tried to figure out exactly what was going on. He hated being used, however, that was what it felt like. That Michael was just using him for nothing more then to get Azazel to Heaven and nothing more. Then there was talk about a reward, although he had a bad feeling about the while situation.

“Ivan,” Michael said, lifting the brown haired Angel's chin so his eyes could meet the eyes of his subordinate. “Don't fear anything. I will show you that it will work out in the end.”

“Yes Master,” Ivan replied softly, allowing his fears to melt away.

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Alone. Just like you were always meant to be. Alone, unloved, and trained to kill. Wait. Was that right? It didn't sound right. A face flashed before his mind, but before he could get a firm grasp of exactly who it was, it faded into the blackness once again. A name was on the tip of his tounge, but his mind was too numb and cluttered to really think about exactly who's name was stuck in his mouth, and who the face before him was to him or even if th e name and face were meant to go together or be separate.

He didn't know that he was asleep until he woke up to Ivan's worried face. Blinking away the haze, but not really being able to, Azazel could only look up at his captor with dulling sliver eyes, that seemed to be slowly slipping into a foggy color. Clouded over with magic and bewilderment.

Sighing, Ivan stared into the dulling eyes that he had admired from afar. He was rather saddened that they were in face, dulling and not staying their vibrant silver that he had learned to love. Just watching over the extremely passive face that stared up at him with almost unmoving eyes, impossible to read because of how dazed and glazed over with whatever drug he gave him.

“I'm sorry,” Ivan whispered, stroking Azazel's hair. “But orders are orders, and I don't know what's going on. Did I do the right thing, Azazel? Or am I just a screw up like everyone else?”

Azazel just stared up at the other, trying to figure out if this was the face that kept going through his mind. But it didn't seem right, the hair was too light and the wings sure weren't ivory, but that was all the comparisons he could make. But this one looked sincere and lost, much like himself at the moment.

“Any change in status,” Michael asked, entering the room.

“None,” Ivan replied, snapping back to reality.

“Good,” Michael smiled, watching Azazel's eyes focused on him. “Everything's going perfectly. You will definitely be rewarded for this, Ivan. You're loyalty will not be forgotten.”

Bowing, Ivan let his eye s wander back to the captive, wondering exactly why Michael wanted him back and in such a state so badly.

“Azazel, I’m glad to see you up and well.”

Azazel glared at Michael for all he was worth. “Yes, I’m well,” he replied, sarcastically. “Glorious even. It’s always been a dream of mine to wake up in a strange bed.”

“It can’t be strange. You practically lived in here for most of your afterlife.”

Azazel looked around him. “My old room… You haven’t changed anything.”

“Of course not,” Michael said with a smile. “I always knew you would come back.”

“Really, because I was under the impression once I fell, I wasn’t to return.”

“Nonsense. We all know you were falsely accused. It was a twisted plan created by your sister and her friend.”

Azazel knew this, of course. He had tried, time and again, to make the others see. Now, however, he stared hard at Michael. “Come again?”

Michael bent so he was face to face with the blonde. “You’re. Innocent.”

“Which is why I had to bring you here,” Ivan spoke up. Azazel turned to him, confusion in his silver eyes. “I’m sorry to have tricked you,” Ivan continued. “We had to remove you from that horrible place.”

“You mean my home?”

Ivan nodded sadly. “It isn’t as peaceful as you believe. Your sister’s partner was…” he trailed off, hoping Azazel would fill in the blank.

Confusion quickly gave way to anger. “How dare you?!” Azazel shrieked, hopping off the bed and glaring at both angels. “I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing, Michael, but you leave Vlad and me out of it!” The blonde turned in a flurry and stormed out the door, slamming it behind him.

Ivan glanced at Michael. “Do you suppose he’ll help us? The fallen has a strong hold on him.”

Michael nodded. “He certainly does. Azazel’s inability to sense it proves this. We have to help him quickly, for his sake, and for the sake of Heaven.”

“How long until Kaggren decides to attack?”

“With Kaggren, who can tell?”

- -

He had forgotten how tranquil Heaven was. The field he was in looked almost like a replica of his own. Golden water poured over a cliff into a large lake. Rainbow fish leaped and danced with each other around snowy white swans. The grass was the pure green from his memories, which were growing clearer with every moment. Azazel dove into the pool, emerging only when he was at the waterfall’s base. Behind the curtain of water sat the cave from his earlier years.

With little effort, he climbed onto the slippery rocks and sat down, folding his legs beneath his robes. “This is pathetic,” he muttered. “I’ve been here for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, and I already miss the dank corridors of Hell.”

A cygnet swam close to him and stared through the barrier of gold with vibrant blue eyes. It trumpeted once, in greeting, before it tried to swim toward him. Without thinking, Azazel grabbed the bird before it could be pushed underwater and set it on the ground by his feet. The cygnet shook itself and stared up at him. It wasn’t threatened in any way; not even the parents seemed concerned, though they swam nearer to the waterfall.

“As if I belong here,” Azazel whispered, ruffling the downy gray feathers. None of the creatures from Hell were so cheerful or trusting. In fact, more than once, Vlad had told Azazel to avoid them, lest he was harmed.

“What am I going to do?” Azazel asked the swan. “I obviously can’t stay here. I have to get home. Vlad is going to be worried sick.”

So what? a little voice in his mind asked. After all, had he not spent the previous day, and night, worrying? It certainly wasn’t fair. Azazel shook his head. It wasn’t fair, but there must have been a good reason. Besides, he was sure Vlad was having a horrible time too.

“No one can find me here, anyway,” he told himself. “Michael doesn’t know about this cave. I could stay here for a while until I can get back to earth.” He nodded. “Yes, I’ll stay here.”

While he was musing, the cygnet gnawed on his finger. Azazel finally noticed and smiled cheerfully. “You can’t eat me,” he told the bird, pulling his hand away. “I’m too big.”

- -

Azazel looked at the shattered window and sighed. At this rate, he was going to fall again! It didn’t necessarily get cold at night, but the rocky floor of the cave was hard and uncomfortable. And he needed food. Killing an animal himself wasn’t something Azazel was ready for.

Thankfully, he head learned a few things in Hell. Carefully, Azazel picked his way through the broken glass. He grabbed a blanket from one of the shelves before moving deeper into the store. Obviously, he couldn’t carry too much with him, there was the problem of getting it into the cave.

When the blanket was full and the ends tightly secured around his supplies, he ripped two shelves off a case. It was a stupid idea, but desperation and logic never went hand in hand. Besides, all he needed were a few sturdy dowel rods and the food would float, yet remain dry.

Nodding to himself, Azazel skittered through the window again and glided silently down the cobblestone street.

- -

Alright, not only had he built an interesting raft, which worked amazingly well, he now had a homemade shelf for his supplies. Azazel smiled; this was better than he had imagined. He lay down on the blanket and stared at the ceiling. Only one thing was truly missing, but he had been on missions alone before. Things would turn out okay.

“You will not get away with this,” Kaggren yelled, watching the image fade from his view. “And they called us traitors!”

“You all are,” Michael replied with a sneer. “Hence you were cast down here in these firey bowels. No one will believe you now. You're revenge will take place very soon, and then, you and all your followers will be dead and gone. And us in Heaven will have nothing else to worry about.”

“Have you gone insane,” Kaggren yelled.

Michael smiled. “Perhaps. But then again, sanity has always been a rare thing in war.”

With that, the image disappeared, leaving Kaggren bathed in darkness, holding his head in one of his hands. They wanted Azazel back, but for what? Maybe he shouldn't have sent Vlad out with Ivan still around. Maybe...this was so screwed up. Sighing again, he knew that with Michael's plan in action, the only thing he could hope to do was go along for it for now. Perhaps it would work out in the end. He could only hope and play along since it has already begun.

“Master,” a small voice asked, peering into the darkened room, allowing a stream of dim torch light to invade the darkness. “Master...is there something wrong?”

“Get the troops ready, Scorn,” Kaggren said, standing up. “We have to get back one of our own.”

Bowing, the young Fallen of the Flame exited to do his master's bidding, as Kaggren watched his world become darkened once again. There was no escape from this hole that he found himself in, the one that Michael had so expertly dug for him.

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“What do you mean, gone,” Vlad asked, narrowing his eyes in anger.

“I...I...I,” the Wyvern replied, shaking in flight. “I was informed by Kaggren that...”

“That what,” Vlad growled.

“Azazel is missing....and so...is...Ivan...,” the Wyvern replied, voice growing dim.

Vlad's eyes flashed anger as he stared the poor little Wyvern down. Where did Azazel go, and did Ivan take him or did the Angel leave of his own accord? The questions started to burn in his head, fueling to the rage that he was already feeling for the news that his lover was missing and it seemed that no one had been able to find him. However, he had a sinking feeling about this whole situation and the involvement of Azazel. Ivan had been showing interest, sure. However, his mind started tossing out very plausible ideas as to Azazel's disappearance and none of them pleased him in the least.

“Tell Kaggren that this will wait until this mess is cleaned up,” Vlad said, turning away and spreading his wings into the night. The moon left his wings gleaming a dull silver with hints of a dull red, much like his wings looked like while he was still one of Heaven's Brood. Hair flowing behind him, shining in the dull light, made him look like an Angel who had just Fallen, and had of yet to witness the horrors of the plane that he was going to be sentenced to eternity to. “I will not finish this until I have this whole situation cleared up.”

“But, Vlad,” the Wyvern said, watching as Vlad leapt into the air. “Master Kaggren won't like this...”

“Kaggren doesn't like a lot of things that I do,” Vlad replied, giving one down burst of his wings and flew off into the night.

Bowing, even though he was sure that Vlad wouldn't notice him, the Wyvern flew off, to tell Kaggren the bad news and get yelled at even more.

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Vlad ripped through the house, searching for any sort of sign that Azazel was anywhere and Kaggren's sources were wrong, which they rarely ever were. He found no sign of the two that he had left behind only two days ago. What in the world was Azazel thinking? Everything was outlined in the packet. Once he infiltrated the target, he was going to be able to come back, and take Azazel with him to finish up the job, since they were dealing with a rather powerful adversary. At least he found this out before he had most of the work done, or else he would have been in a deeper hole.

However, mission objectives on the side, he couldn't help but worry about the well being of Azazel, or even where he was. Upon entering the room where Ivan was staying, he could only stare at the yellow object that lay on the small dresser in horror. The bastard never gave Azazel the packet. Even more, there was a note inside addressed to him, saying that he took Azazel back to Michael so that he could be cleansed of whatever impurities that he apparently cast.

“I cast nothing those idiots,” Vlad growled. “Not all of us stoop to such levels...”

Throwing the paper away from him, he flopped on the bed, facing the ceiling, and just stared at it for a moment. That was the true reason that Ivan was there. To get in and come out with Azazel and drag the poor boy back to Heaven, which in some cases, would be worse then anything he had seen in Hell thus far.

“They threw you away and I caught you,” Vlad muttered, sitting up. “They have no right whatsoever to try to take back what was so willingly cast away.”

Looking around, he took in a deep breath, stood up, and opened a portal to Hell, and Kaggren's throne room, ready not only for a scolding, but also, perhaps a briefing on what their next plan of action against this was going to be.

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“This is very serious,” Kaggren said, reading over the note. “Not only is Michael trying to start a war with me as the scapegoat, but trying to get Azazel back on their side.”

“They cast him down,” Vlad yelled. “He had done almost nothing against his own will except for the few things that he must to do to prove his loyalty to you by accepting little missions of taking out rebellions of the other Fallen to stop an all out war. They said we put a spell on him! What in the world would make them think that we would ever do such a thing! We're not Demons...”

Raising a hand, Kaggren stared at him with whirling icy blue eyes to show that he was trying to figure a way out of this mess. “The only reason I can see is that they needed a reason for us to attack, and they picked a very good target.”

“What are we going to do to get him back,” Vlad asked, staring his Leader down.

“Nothing for now,” Kaggren replied. “If you never put a spell on Azazel, which I know you didn't, nothing is going to happen. Their magic will be ineffective. However, if they try physical torture again...he may break beyond repair. We must wait to attack, no matter how much it tears you apart or how close to the breaking point Azazel comes, we must wait for the right moment.”

Vlad was stunned. He would have to wait that long? Then...what if Azazel breaks? What if he thinks that he didn't care anymore? What if...what if...

“Vlad,” Kaggren asked, now worried about his best fighter, trainer, and all around advisor. “Don't do anything rash. I'm sure that he will be fine.”

“I can't have him broken like that,” Vlad yelled. “He's finally smiling again! You know how long it's taken for that...”

Nodding, there was nothing more that Kaggren could say that would put Vlad's fears to rest. If he understood one thing, it was that Vlad truly cared for Azazel, and that was something rare to find in the realm that he found himself watching over. Not only that, but these were serious allegations that were being brought upon him and those under him, and he didn't like them one bit.

“He'll be fine,” Kaggren sighed, trying to reassure himself as well. “We all will be...”

Ivan’s chance came sooner than anyone, including himself, foresaw. Not two days after the incident, he found Vlad packing a traveling bag. “Where are you going?”

Vlad shrugged. “Wherever Kaggren decided I’m needed.”

“What about Azazel?” Ivan asked, sitting on the bed next to Vlad’s luggage. He stretched his legs out before him and leaned back on his hands, wary of his wings.

“What about him?”

Ivan looked into Vlad’s eyes and was almost shocked by the concern he found there. Was this fallen, the toughest he had ever met, threatened by him? Was he afraid Ivan would do something to Azazel while he was gone? “Shouldn’t he be in here, helping you prepare to leave?”

Vlad sighed. He snapped his bag closed and hoisted it over his shoulder. “He doesn’t know I’m going anywhere,” he replied, opening the bedroom door.

Well, this was a surprise. “Why not?”

“This mission is ‘of the utmost confidentiality’.”

“And you would rather leave without telling him than risk another fight with Kaggren?”

“Of course not!” Vlad glared at him. “Mind your own business.”

Before Ivan could think of a retort, the black haired fallen was moving down the stairs. Ivan followed him into the hallway and peered down over the balcony.

“Azazel is going to be worried about you,” Ivan called after him. “He isn’t going to handle this well.”

In response, Vlad pulled an envelope from his bag and placed it on the table near the front door. “Make sure he reads this,” he said before scooting out of the house and from sight.

Ivan waited until he was sure Vlad wasn’t coming back for something he forgot before grabbing the envelope and stuffing it into his robes. “Sorry, Vlad. This would only manage to get in my way.”

- -

Azazel waved cheerful at Ivan when the angel joined him in the large garden. Already, the blonde had forgiven Ivan for the other day. He held up a bundle of roses, smiling like a little kid. “Aren’t they lovely?” he asked. “Don’t they just warm you up inside?”

Ivan nodded. “Certainly.”

“Vlad loves roses. He acts tough and whatnot, but he’s really sweet.”

“You live for him, don’t you.”

Azazel set the roses on the grass. “And he lives for me. It’s part of a relationship.” He glanced at Ivan before continuing with his preening. “Speaking of living for someone, what do you want for dinner?”

Ivan looked at the house. Azazel would be in no mood to cook anything. “Why don’t we order a pizza.”

Azazel looked horrified. “Order out?” he asked, as though the very idea struck him dumb. “Whatever for?”

Ivan shrugged. “You cook all the time for us, taking a break won’t kill you.”

“Humans aren’t exactly used to delivering to angels.”

“Who cares?” Ivan exclaimed, standing up. “It will bring excitement to their dull lives!”

Wrapped in the angel’s infectious attitude, Azazel nodded, smiling brightly again before standing as well and carting the roses into his house.

‘A smile worth a thousand others‘, Ivan thought, watching the blonde. ‘Oh, Vlad, if only you knew what you were missing.’

- -

“Are you sure you haven’t seen him?” Azazel asked again, frantically. He opened the door to the bathroom a fifth time and looked around, even going so far as to peer in the shower.

“I haven’t talked to Vlad all day,” Ivan replied quietly. He had been following the panicked boy for almost an hour and finally accepted Azazel wasn’t quite in his right mind.

Haunted silver eyes stared at him, almost as if they could see his deepest thoughts. Azazel turned hurriedly away and moved on to begin his search again. “He wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye first,” he murmured, voice hitching. “He wouldn’t have!”

Ivan placed a comforting hand on the blonde’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Maybe he went to the store.” He didn’t have to look at Azazel’s face, however, to know the other didn’t believe him. “We could search outside for him, if you want, but I don’t feel his presence nearby.” Without thinking, he pulled Azazel into a hug. “He’ll be fine, I promise.”

Even though the blonde made no noise, Ivan knew he was crying. He could feel the crystalline tears soaking through his robes.

Azazel lay on his side, facing the spot the other Fallen had always occupied with jaded silver eyes. He tried to sleep, he really did, but he kept worrying about Vlad. The other never left without at least leaving a note behind so that he at least knew where he was going. It was something that agreed on for each other, since it was true that in some instances, it was best not to know where the other was going. But he didn't find a trace of Vlad or anything that would have told him that his lover was leaving.

Curling up in the blankets, he shivered still. He was so used to sleeping with the warmth of wings around him that made these blankets seem uncomfortable. Plus, the coldness that was beside him was large and intimidating. He tried to ignore it by sleeping facing the other side, but he just couldn't do it. Breaking such a habit seemed impossible at the moment, and it wasn't something that he was exactly willing to do anyway. He wanted Vlad there with him, but it was an impossibility. Vlad had left him, here alone with no way to contact him, and that thought was killing him on the inside.

Accepting that fact hurt more then it ever should have. He went on a mission most likely. Why was it effecting him like this? He shouldn't be feeling such a big hole in his life, he shouldn't be worrying so much about this. Maybe Kaggren teleported him somewhere, not like the bastard never did something like that before and Vlad would disappear for a few days. Of course, Vlad would make it up to him but that was besides the point. This was gnawing at him and he had no reason why.

Rolling over on Vlad's side of the bed, Azazel inhaled the familiar scent that made him feel like crying all over again. He still had no idea why this was affecting him so much, why it hurt like was the end of the world for him. He felt the gaping hole of loneliness just keep gnawing at him, slowly increasing the hole until it felt that it was becoming unbearable.

It was in this lapse of sanity that he thought he should go looking for him, even if he had no idea where the other went, nor was even going to. Hell, he wanted to march right up to Kaggren and demand to know if he had sent Vlad anywhere and try to fight the Leader of the Fallen of Shadows if he wouldn't tell him.

However, even with such valiant thoughts, he found that he couldn't bring himself to tear himself away from the bed, surrounded by at least the scent of the one who held his heart, and the heart he was hanging so desperately onto. Nuzzling the sheets, he wished that he knew of at least a spell that would allow him to bring Vlad to him where ever he was, or even a projection to allow them to at least talk a little. It was about then that he wished that he actually paid attention to the magic books so he would know how to do such things. He could research in the morning, and planned to do that as he was taken into his dreams, where everything was right again.

Ivan watched quietly through a crack in the doorway as Azazel changed position every few minutes, and even heard a few whimpers that made his heart cringe at the sound. His will faltered over if he was doing the right thing or not, but he shook himself out of it. He had to go through with this now. Michael was involved and he was Michael's current best and he didn't want to give up his rank. Nor did he want his Angel to be in this situation anymore. He was more convinced then ever that there was a spell placed on Azazel, one that he was hoping to break.

Entering the room quietly after he was sure that he heard the sound snores of the Angel, he stood by the edge of the bed, looking at Azazel longingly. Opening a portal, Ivan carefully picked Azazel up and walked through, to Heaven and the ever-waiting Michael.

Coming through the other side, Michael greeted Ivan, as Azazel was still passed out in Ivan's arms. Ivan nodded at the greeting, reluctant eyes pulling away from Azazel's peacefully slumbering face. He hated that he had to do this, since Michael had convinced him that there was no other way for them to break the spell that Vlad apparently had cast on him.

“You have done very well, Ivan,” Michael smiled. “I'm glad that I have sent you on this very important mission rather then any of the others.”

“Thank you,” Ivan replied, looking back down at the being he held in his arms. “I was honored to take this task.”

Smiling, he turned to leave, and pointed to a bed. “Place him there. We don't want to stress him anymore then he is most likely going to be. After all, he hasn't been in Heaven for a very long time. He may flip out a little as well because of the spell cast on him. With loosing his wings, he is very prone to such things.”

The Arch Angel left, leaving Ivan and Azazel in a lavish room filled with potted plants, scenery that would change every so often and looked so real one could touch it, and a large canopy bed with wine colored blankets with violet and crimson pillows taking up much of the space. Curtains of fine silk glittered a light shade of turquoise, giving the bed an even more ethereal glow. The room looked like something out of a very expensive pent house, nothing spared in the creation of the room of the Arch Angel Michael.

Laying Azazel softly on the comforter, Ivan watched him sleep a little, wondering what the one that he had watched for so long was dreaming about. What made his face appear so peaceful and full of tranquility? Letting his fingertips lightly brush over the sleeping one's face, Ivan wondered just how Azazel and Vlad met, how the apparent spell was cast and what made Azazel leave all this glory?

“What made you this way, Azazel,” Ivan asked softly. “What took you away before I could even try to comfort you?”

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Waking up, he was warm, comfortable, and felt like he was floating on air. Blinking a few times, his mind was still hazy and just assumed that he had been there all along. Feeling a weight beside him, it was then that he felt that something was wrong. It was on the wrong side of him and he was on the wrong side of whoever was there. This wasn't his and Vlad's room, but familiar all the same.

Oh...my...

“God,” he shouted, sitting up and looking frantically around him. Where was he? More importantly, where was Vlad? The previous day hit him like a ton of bricks, making his eyes water from the impact of it all. But that still didn't explain where he was, and why when he looked to his side, Ivan was curled up next to him.

I'm...if he's next to me, and if those paintings...shit.

It was then Michael decided to enter the room, and it all went downhill from there.

She was feeling really warm and irritable, something that those under her command didn't like one bit. It was one thing dealing with her when she was in her right mind rather then when she was in one of these moods. Either way, it wasn't very pleasant to deal with her at the moment, but in a war, you did what you had to do in order to survive. If that meant dealing with a very irate Dragon of Heaven, then it meant dealing with one.

Nimora herself wasn't sure why she was so uptight, but had a sinking feeling that she knew why. She was a young Dragon by their standards, and just coming into adulthood a few years before as well as a rather high general in the ranks didn't help one bit. She had yet to have a Mating Flight, but truly thought that it would be farther away then she feared it was, and that thought scared her. If she were to Fly now, there would be no way to tell who or what would catch her, since she never really thought about getting a mate and therefore never took any of the males seriously.

But now she was sure regretting that decision. Namor, the Leader of the Dragons of Heaven, told her to stay back until she had ate least had her First Flight so that she would be able to at least have a mate and not have to worry about such a complication. However, she was stupid enough to just say that she would be just fine and therefore went to her post anyway instead of waiting. And now there was no telling what was going to happen if she went into Flight here and now. And with the way she was feeling, she knew that it was going to happen soon.

“Nimora,” Namor said, dull gray eyes looking into her deep golden ones. “If you can't pay attention, maybe I should dismiss you.”

“There will be no need,” Nimora said, standing up straighter to recover from being caught not paying attention and being pulled from her dark musings.

“As I was saying,” Namor started again. “Kaggren and his elite will be around here, since we have taken care of Zaiki and her Fallen of the Wind and from our sources, he was supposed to be her back up if anything happened. So I would like you all to be careful with your troops, I have met Kaggren many times before he Fell, and he is not a pushover like the rest. He was a Leader in Heaven for a reason, and has retained his title in Hell for the same.”

After being dismissed, she exited the tent, all of them in Angelic-looking forms to save on space and since they were smaller, they were much easier to hide rather then the bulky hides of being a Dragon. Long crimson hair was braided, falling to halfway down her back where two creamy white feathered wings protruded from her shoulders, which were covered in robes of black, red, and gold with a golden chord tied around her waist. Dark olive skin complemented her dark look well, and brought out her golden caterine eyes even more, if that was even possible. She was a rather nice looking Dragon, in this form and in her full Draconic form. It was a mystery how she didn't have a mate already, but she never thought about it so therefore it was irrelevant.

Stepping out into the fresh air, she inhaled deeply and allowed the cool, rainy atmosphere to take some of the heat away, even if it was futile. It worked for a few moments, and then she was back to being irritable and just incredibly warm. She hated that she would most likely go into Flight soon, and with so many beings around that would be able to try to catch her, she didn't want to think about it. She just hoped that it was another Dragon of Heaven, although she highly doubted it. It most likely would be a Fallen Angel with all of them around in the forests, spying on them. Yes, she knew they were there, but they weren't attacking, and therefore no consequence to her safety or of the camp in general, so she really didn't care.

She was the Millennium Dragon after all. One of the most feared of this damnable Millennium War with her kill list long and filled with the blood of Hell's new occupants that would be forever trapped in that plane. Many would like to be by her side for eternity, for once a Dragon had their first Flight, the one who caught them would be their Mate for eternity, no questions asked. One of the downsides that she had found out being what she was. Growling at the fact once again, she walked off to her private tent, trying to hold her instincts at bay.

“I really should have stayed in Heaven,” she groaned, curling up on her cot, tail wrapping itself around one of her legs and wings encircling her like a blanket. “I should have listened to Namor's advice...”

And with that, she fell asleep, hoping to sleep away the need to fly, and see who would be worthy of her eternal loyalty.

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She didn't know that she was up in the air until it was too late. Hell, she didn't even notice that she was awake until she felt the familiar feeling of air under her, going over her wings and through her crimson locks. It felt good just to fly and have the wind gusting around her. But she wanted to fly faster. Do aerial acrobatics that she would never do if she were in her right mind. However, she was intent on giving her suitors a hard time in getting even remotely close to her.

Wait. Suitors? What was going on? Looking around, in her brief moment of sanity, she realized what was going on. And the part that scared her the most was that she couldn't break free from the hold that her instincts had on her actions. Shutting the rational part of her mind down, she allowed what was to happen, well, happen. There was no use in fighting something that she wouldn't be able to stop anyway.

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Kaggren heard a Dragon's call, one that he wasn't familiar with, and wondered what in the three planes of Heaven, Hell, and Mortal was going on. Rushing out of his tent, where he was meeting with his higher ups about potential battle plans and such, he looked up to see a figure darting in the sky, and wondered what was going on. The robes told of Heaven's brood that stayed within the golden gates, but he was still intrigued, and made the fatal mistake of spreading his black feathered wings, a few feathers shimmering violet in the dull light of the cloudy day.

“Kaggren,” Vlad, his trusted friend and right hand man, yelled, running out after him.

“Don't,” Kaggren growled, stopping Vlad in his tracks. “I don't need you getting into something I'm not even sure that I should be. Take care of things here. I have to know why there is a Dragon of Heaven flying around so haphazardly.”

“It will be done,” Vlad bowed, going back into the tent to continue the preparations for battle.

With that, Kaggren flew faster, dark navy blue hair swirling around him, robes of dusty gray flowing around him in the wind gusts his wings created. He wanted to know what this Dragon was doing. First off, in her alternative form and secondly, flying around like mad. Speeding up, he was almost knocked out by the images pouring out of the apparently female's mind. This was a mating flight of a Dragon? In the middle of a war of all places? How young and stupid was this female to not have stayed in the safety of Heaven?

Whatever made him fly faster to catch up, he didn't know. He just wanted to be the one that took her in this Flight. If she was stupid enough to fly over his territory and borders that were clearly marked, he was in the right to take whatever he felt was his. And if that meant a virginal Dragon of Heaven, that meant that.

Catching her wasn't as hard as he expected, but she was also inexperienced which worked in his favor in his quest. Taking her by the waist, forcing them to land, he was for once happy that the Dragons stayed in their alternative forms instead of their full ones, or he would have had a massacre on his hands. He knew the rituals of such a thing. He would be forever bonded with this one, who he would find out later to be none other then Nimora, the Millennium Dragon herself. His life had just become more complicated then he ever wished it to be, but at the time, he really didn't care.

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She woke up, tired and sated, and curled up in the warmth of downy black and violet wings. She didn't want to snap awake like she did, realization hitting her that she was now connected with a Fallen Angel. Lifting her head, she looked into the face of a still sleeping Kaggren. She knew him by face only because Namor had pointed it out many times, and was disgusted with herself. Did no one else chase her? Either that or this Fallen was actually faster then any Dragon on Wing. Wouldn't surprise her. They could escape pretty fast if they wanted to get away.

She was pissed now, and no one liked to be at the end of a pissed Dragon's claws. Shifting into her Draconic form, she roared angerly, eyes swirling with red and gold. Raising a claw, Kaggren woke up with just enough time to mutter a 'oh shit' before everything went black again.

Disclaimer: Only gonna put this once. Azazel isn't mine. He's Sara's. So is Ivan. Kaggren and Vlad are mine. We share whatever plot there is, so there. And this is her first lemony/limey thing. So flame and I will kill you for her. That or set fire to a couple of things. Yay fire. Enjoy.

Azazel stood before the large window, basking in the breeze flouncing through the open glass. Silk curtains, pastel blue in color, billowed on either side of him in the pesky wind. With a happy sigh, Azazel ran a hand through his light blonde hair before glancing over his shoulder. The real reason he had come into the room lay huddled under the covers of a king size bed, sheltered from the daylight.

“Guten Morgen! Treiben und schiene!” Azazel exclaimed, his thickly accented voice echoing somewhat in the spacious room.

The lump on the bed shifted slightly, even gave a quiet snort, but it was quite content to remain in place.

“Vlad, get up,” he said, yanking the protective covers from the fallen. “We have a big meeting to attend.”

Foggy aquamarine eyes blinked at him sleepily, and Vlad murmured something incoherently before burying his face in a downy pillow.

“Hmm? I couldn’t understand you.”

With a deep sigh, Vlad finally pushed himself up. “I said, joy of joys.”

Azazel rolled his eyes. “I made you coffee.”

At this, Vlad instantly perked up. “Bring it here.”

“I don’t think so. You’ll fall back asleep and- don’t look at me like that, I know you. You’re just waiting for me to leave the room.”

The blonde was right, of course. With an acknowledging grunt, Vlad crawled out of the bed, his black wings unfurling behind him. He didn’t even bother to look at Azazel until he was in the doorway.

“Are you coming?” the brunette asked.

Azazel sashayed past him and glided down the hallway into the kitchen. “I even made breakfast for your lazy ass,” he called. “Hurry up, or it will get cold.”

Vlad knew Azazel would simply warm the food up again, though, so he stayed put for a minute. His eyes slid shut again and he slid to a halfway standing position, leaning heavily on the door frame.

“I said hurry up!”

Startled out of his semi-conscious state, Vlad smiled guiltily at Azazel, who stood at the other end of the hall, wooden spoon in hand. Azazel only shook his head sadly.

- -

Fallen scattered out of his way like frightened cockroaches. And, to him, they may as well have been. Those who knew him personally moved out of respect, those who did not, out of fear. All moved, however, because messing with the black haired man was a terrible mistake.

No, Vlad was not arrogant. He was confident. He strode down the hall with vigor, long hair streaming behind him, wings gleaming a deep crimson in the torchlight. The unfortunate fallen who met his gaze choked on their own words, fear in their eyes. Which only encouraged Vlad’s smirk to deepen.

“Vlad, wait up!”

Vlad turned, his aqua eyes peering into Azazel’s silver ones. “You’re two slow,” he replied.

“Shut up,” Azazel muttered when he finally stood next to Vlad.

“The sooner we get out of here, the better,” Azazel rushed on, glancing around, not for the first time. “I hate this place.”

“A lot of bad memories for you lie down here.”

“Some good ones too,” Azazel said, smiling brightly.

How Vlad loved his smile. Azazel hardly smiled, which made these rare moments special, but when he did, it lit up the room.

Before he knew it, Vlad was grinning too, though for a different reason. Without any real subtlety, he bent down and kissed Azazel with vigor, ignoring the cat calls and whistles throughout the room.He pushed his tongue through parted lips and ran it along Azazel’s teeth, he even went so far as to grind their crotches together, before pulling away.

Azazel‘s dazed expression was priceless.

“I’m not that good,” Vlad said, snapping Azazel to attention.

Azazel blinked a few times before looking around. He blushed deeply at all the attention and hid his face in Vlad’s robes, causing the taller man to laugh. “Come on, the longer Kaggren waits, the longer the bastard will whine.”

- -

Even before the door opened, Kaggren was taking a breath to yell at the couple.Azazel stuck his head in the room and somehow, the King of Hell felt his anger melt away. Only for a moment.

“Where the hell have you been?!” he shouted, glaring at the blonde.

“Making out in a closet,” Vlad replied before Azazel could, pushing his way into the room. He waited for Azazel to close the door before continuing. “Unlike you, I still get some action.”

Kaggren bit back his remark, instead returning his attention to Azazel, who fidgeted. “We weren’t…” he trailed off, letting the sentence die in the air. “What did you need us for?”

Kaggren snorted. “Gentlemen, this is Ivan Winters. He is visiting under orders from Michael, the sniveling moron. Ivan has requested Azazel to take him around, show him the sights, you know, other worthless things I can’t be bothered with.”

“This dump has sights? Why wasn’t I aware of this?”

Azazel glared at Vlad before turning to the angel next to Kaggren.

Dark brown eyes smiled at him from beneath darker brown hair. His wings were neat and trimmed, the ivory feathers glimmering in the torch light, a sharp contrast to his tanned skin. He wore typical robes, which were tied together by a thin golden cord around his waist. “So,” he said, clapping his hands. “Which of you gentlemen is Azazel?”

Azazel and Vlad glanced at each other before turning back to the angel.

“I am,” Azazel replied, stepping forward to shake Ivan’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Ivan grinned. “I believe I’m going to enjoy visiting here. Tell me, are all fallen lovely as you?”

Vlad growled, stepping toward Ivan, but Azazel held a hand up. “Mr. Winters, I appreciate the compliment, but let’s keep this strictly a professional relationship, please.”

“Of course,” Ivan replied cheerfully. “My apologies.”

Nodding, Azazel returned to Vlad, who wrapped his arm around the blonde’s waist.

“Can we go now?” Vlad snarled. “You’ve wasted enough of my day, Kaggren.”

“Yes, sure, why not. Go do something idiotic, like frolicking through the flowers; just get out of my sight.”

- -

Azazel sank into the soothing water slowly, relishing the warmth. The ends of his hair floated about him, but his wings, if he still had them, would have remained dry, hanging over the edge of the tub. “Perfect.” The heat did wonders for his sore muscles and tired body. “Just perfect.”

Jets hummed rhythmically, gently spitting streams of water in all directions, causing the water to swirl.

“I bet I could make it better.”

Azazel peered at the doorway. “Really?” he asked. “How so, Vlad?”

Vlad grinned lecherously and stepped into the room, shedding his clothes. “By joining you, of course.”

“Of course. Silly me.”

“Do you mind?”

Azazel gave him an odd look. “Do I mind? Do you honestly have to ask?”

“Well, just getting in would have been rude,” Vlad replied, stepping over the rim. He knelt down and settled on Azazel’s hips, still grinning.

“Vlad…” Azazel groaned. “I wanted to relax.”

“You can relax all you want.”

“Not with you-”

“Mm…”

Slowly, Vlad licked down the side of Azazel’s neck and nibbled on his collar bone. Azazel’s eyelids fluttered in pleasure, a tiny whimper escaping his throat.

Vlad continued lower to his chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and circling it with his tongue. He ravished Azazel’s upper torso, leaving no area of dry skin untouched. There would be no tormenting or harshness this time, only simple pleasure.

When he reached the water, Vlad gazed up to Azazel’s face. His eyes were still closed, and his cheeks were flushed. Small, almost inaudible pants seeped through partly opened lips in a rhythmic pattern, which made Vlad smile.

Because of the water, Vlad couldn’t follow through his original plan, so he retraced his path back to Azazel’s mouth, kissing him again as he wrapped his hand around his penis.

Azazel opened his eyes, letting loose a strangled whimper. “Vlad…”

“Shh.”

Azazel sank deeper into the water as Vlad tightened and relaxed his grip. The brunette quickly fell into a pattern, adjusting easily when Azazel bucked his hips.

The ecstasy began in his lower abdomen and spread, surging through his body like wild fire. Pleasure built until Azazel was at the peak, ready to go over the edge. “Vlad, I’m going to-”

Before he finished the sentence, though, everything stopped. Vlad removed his hand and pulled away.

“What?” Azazel asked as intelligently as he could.

“I’m sorry, I tried.”

Confusion began to fill his foggy head. “Vlad? What’s wr- Oh!”

When Azazel finally returned to his senses, he yawned. “This isn’t what I meant by relaxing.”

Vlad smiled and climbed out of the bath. “Really.”

“Mm hmm.”

“Tell you what,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll tuck you in to bed.” He didn’t give Azazel a chance to reply before he lifted him out. With one hand, he got a towel around the blonde and then carted him to the bedroom.

“Vlad,” Azazel yawned, curling up next to his lover, allowing the black wings to envelope him in a blanket of downy warmth. Nothing could compare to the wings of that of an Angel, unless they were the wings of a Fallen who was there during the first Fall. “Shouldn’t we be showing that….Ivan person around?”

“Why would you want to do that,” Vlad asked, rubbing Azazel’s head. “Besides, Kaggren gave us the rest of the day. You know as well as I do that is a rarity in itself.”

Nodding, Azazel began to drift off into a fitful sleep; one that he felt would leave him refreshed to stare down anything the next day would try to throw at him.

Vlad on the other hand was wide awake, holding Azazel close. He didn’t like Ivan, the way he looked with those disconnected eyes, always like he was thinking and not really listening to what either of them had to say. And why would Michael send anyone down to Hell anyway, let alone make Azazel show them around the place where torture was commonplace and where those of Heaven’s decent were afraid to even tread since they would most likely never return from those gates. Things weren’t adding up in his mind, which made him more defensive of his naive Fallen then ever.

“Look at the two little Fallen, all cozy and dozing,” Vlad heard a voice snicker. Peering up, he could see Ivan’s shadowed figure leaning against the door way, arms folded in arrogance and crooked cocky smile plastered on his face. Wings of icy white stood in contrast to the dark wood, which made Vlad want to jump up right then and there. However, Azazel was keeping the wing beneath him pinned and Vlad would rather keep both of his wings.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing in OUR fucking house,” Vlad growled. And those of the Wind were supposed to be the peaceful ones of the Elements. Well, everything had their black sheep, and Ivan was proving to be one of them. “I don’t remember either of us inviting you in here.”

“Kaggren suggested it,” Ivan replied, eyes roving over the scene before him. “And where is Azazel? I surely thought that he would be in here with you.”

“If you must know,” Vlad growled. “He’s right here with me.” Pealing the top wing off a little, showing Azazel’s sleeping face, he quickly covered it back up, not wanting to disturb the sleeping Fallen. It was bad enough that Ivan was there to disturb his peace; he didn’t need to disturb Azazel’s.

“I see,” Ivan said, eyes narrowing a bit.

“Did you honestly think that he’d be somewhere else,” Vlad yawned, wanting nothing more then to drift off to sleep. He knew that he’d have to deal with the irate Wind Angel the next day, showing him the torture chambers, different territories, and other such ‘sights’ that Hell had to offer. True, it was appointed to Azazel, but they had come to the agreement that he knew a little more about this plane and would direct the trio towards the most ‘impressive’ sights. “And why are you even in here? I’m sure you seen the spare bedrooms when you came in.”

Ivan didn’t give him a response, and opted instead just to smile, flip him the bird, and walk away. Vlad growled at the gesture, but didn’t do anything about it. He figured that he’d just ‘accidently’ hit him with a whip or two during a demonstration. Oh, did that sound nice.

Yawning, he laid his head down on the pillow, and smiled as Azazel instinctively curled closer, seeking warmth. Drifting off, he slept away the evils of the day, but hung onto the plans for revenge for later use.

*Insert some sort of AWESOME scene separator here*

“And this,” Azazel said, walking through the endless hallways of chained mortal and Fallen souls, each screaming a blood curdling scream. “The demons you see here are deaf, so the noise doesn’t affect the work. And as you can hear, they are good at what they do.”

The burly beasts resembled orges, or more of the beasts resembled them. Thick green skin covered bulky muscles and beady red eyes watched their handy work. On them they wore rags of brown and deep forest green, making the fable turn reality in the firey depths of Hell. In their oversized hands, they held cat of nine tails, clubs, and whips with curved blades at the end, and handled them expertly. The souls would cry out in their tortured state as one of the weapons connected to them, tearing the souls bit by bit.

“I never knew that souls could tear so easily,” Ivan said, much more steadily then any Angel of Heaven should have ever been able to. “They seem so fragile without their egos to hold them up.”

Azazel shuddered, at the screams and moans of those that had been sent to Hell because of their transgressions. He had been here so many times, witnessing the same thing over and over again as well as experiencing some of the same tortures. Even if they weren’t from the hideous creatures before him, it didn’t change the fact that he had been chained up once. By his own kind, whipped for things that he never had seen as evil before, torn because he made a few slip ups, and now wingless and one of the Fallen. How one of Heaven’s direct decent and never knowing such evils could ever be able to stomach such sights and sounds, he could not fathom, nor really wanted to.

“Then you don’t know the mortal soul very well,” Vlad replied, watching passively. “They are what they were when they had a mortal body. The same fragile personality with the protective masks and even the strength of the heart removed. That is their divine punishment of disobedience. You of all beings should know that.”

Ivan didn’t look at Vlad, but kept his eyes on Azazel, watching how the other was nervous around such goings on. Yes, this was working out rather well. He was learning Azazel’s weaknesses very fast, and he was sure that the other was having some memories return. Yes, he had been there for some of the punishments he had to go through, Michael wanting a public example and all. Upper lip curving slightly upward, Ivan had his gears turning, as they ever were when planning mischief.

Azazel took in a deep breath as they passed the last of the main torture place, determined to get somewhere else for a little while and not have to listen to those ever present screams. They reminded him too much of his own. Vlad had suggested a few other places, but each of them contained the same horrors that existed over here. Sighing, he decided in the end to get them over with. So that he could return to Kaggren’s castle and get some rest at least. Then, hopefully, both of them would get leave and be able to go up to the mortal plane and take a break from this place. However, he had a sinking feeling that such an option was just a foolish hope, but hung onto it anyway.

“Where are we going next,” Ivan asked passively, trying his hardest to make Vlad defensive. Oh, the looks the older Fallen gave him were priceless and he couldn’t seem to get enough of them. That and it was fun, which was always a bonus in his book.

“To the pits,” Azazel responded with a deep sigh. He hated it down there, the heat was at its most intense down there and the smell of brimstone and burning souls were everywhere. Not to mention a pain in the butt to get out of his robes and hair. “That will be all for today.”

“Why will that be all?”

“I don’t want to go into it,” Azazel replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I really don’t.”

“I have yet to see what’s so horrible,” Ivan shrugged. “After all, it’s not you that they’re doing all of this too.”

It took everything Vlad had not to go kick Ivan where the sun didn’t shine, grab a whip, and just show the Angel exactly what it felt like to be under such administrations. He had a feeling that Ivan had been there to witness some of the tortures that Azazel had to endure under Heaven’s rule, and that fact just angered him more. For some reason, this little punk was intent on pissing him off and trying to make Azazel feel like nothing but a speck of dirt. To tell the truth, he was getting rather sick of it.

Azazel didn’t respond, but led the way to the pits. He could see the orange glow in the distance from the cavern that the whippings took place, and just the fact that they were so close made him shudder. True, he had never had those horrors thrown upon him, but all those screams, all those that had transgressed against the law was sickening, as were the treatments that were bestowed upon them. It just reminded him of the ‘horrors’ that he had inflicted upon the mortal realm and therefore caused most of them to be trapped in this place for all eternity with no hope of ever escaping. That fact was ever eating away at him, although he tried his hardest not to let it.

When they arrived at the place, they were greeted by tall cliffs with dragons carved into the sides, guarding large black iron gates. Smoke billowed from the pits of fire and agony as the screams made their way up from the place. Staring at them with glaring icy violet eyes was a goblin, sickly green skin wrinkled and scrunched all over, covered only by a loin cloth since his position demanded that he try to keep himself cool, although it seemed that most of his efforts were in vain with the constant sheen of pea colored sweat.

“What do you want here, Fallen,” the rough voice growled out. “And why are you with one of those Heaven brood? They aren’t supposed to be down here.”

“I am here by orders of Michael,” Ivan said passively.

“And I have been instructed by Kaggren to show him the sights of Hell,” Azazel sighed.

“And what is this other Fallen doing,” the goblin asked, staring at Vlad disapprovingly.

“I am here because I know more then him,” Vlad replied, leaning an elbow on Azazel’s shoulder. “And I would like to keep an eye on the Heaven brood so that there is less chance for trouble.”

Nodding, the goblin opened the rusty gates, and the trio entered into the heat, smoke, brimstone, and screams that made Hell famous for being a place of utter torment and damnation.

“It certainly was hot in there,” Ivan commented as they made their way back to Kaggren’s palace. “What are we going to do next?”

“Nothing,” Vlad growled. “Go away.”

Ivan looked put out. “You don’t really want me to leave,” he turned to Azazel, “right?”

Azazel stared blankly at the brown haired angel. He was tired, his feet hurt, and he didn’t particularly care what Ivan did. “Sure,” he replied quietly. “Fine… wait… what?”

Ivan smiled. “It’s settled then,” he said, clapping his hands. “We’ll play cards or something.”

“I didn’t mean-” Before Azazel could finish the protest, Ivan was walking away from them. He looked over his shoulder once, waved for them to follow him, and disappeared into the portal to the mortal realm. Azazel sighed deeply and turned to Vlad, who was fuming.

“He’s so annoying! I want to wring his neck,” Vlad exclaimed.

“We know the way home better than he does,” Azazel pointed out. “We can throw his luggage out the window and lock the doors.”

Vlad smiled for the first time the entire day. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

- -

Unfortunately for the duo, Ivan seemed to be one step ahead of them. When they arrived at their home, he was perched on a counter, drinking a mug of (Vlad’s!) coffee. “Took you two long enough.”

Vlad, whether it was exhaustion from the day or the failed attempts to make Ivan leave, stood in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth forming silent words. After a few seconds, he gave up. “Fine!” he yelled. “Whatever!”

Both Azazel and Ivan watched curiously as the man stormed down the hall.

“Oh dear…” Azazel whispered when a door slammed. He automatically moved to follow, but Ivan grabbed his wrist.

“Give him time to cool off,” Ivan said. “Come on, we can talk for a while.”

Azazel was caught between what he wanted to do, be with Vlad, and what he should, as the host, do. Eventually, accompanying Ivan seemed the best choice, so Azazel led him to the living room.

“You have a lovely home,” Ivan said, looking around the comfortably decorated room. There was nothing lavish in the area, just a fluffy couch and two chairs forming a semi-circle around a coffee table. An oil painting of a mountainous landscape hung above a captivating fireplace. “It complements you very well.”

“It should,” Azazel replied coolly. “I do, after all, live here.”

Ivan nodded absently. “Did you paint the picture?”

He received no answer for quite a while; Azazel was lost in thought. “Yes,” he said sadly. “A very long time ago. I haven’t had time to do so as of late.”

“Because of Vlad?”

“Of course not. I’ve been too busy.” Azazel stood. “Please excuse me. It’s been quite a day and I think we should go to bed.”

Ivan followed him. “There’s no need to hide,” he whispered. “Vlad simply isn’t cultured like you and I.”

Azazel’s glare could have stopped even Kaggren in mid step. “Don’t talk like he’s below you, Mr. Winters,” the blonde growled, opening the door to his bedroom. “He’s plenty cultured.

“What I meant was,” Ivan leaned in closely, “are you sure he’s the right match for you? After all, Vlad is a fallen, trained to kill. He’s more harmful than kind. How long until his true nature is revealed and he takes his anger out on you?”

“I have nothing to worry about,” Azazel replied. “Vlad wouldn’t hurt me.”

“But, if he does?”

“I have nothing to worry about,” Azazel repeated, closing the door in Ivan’s face and leaning heavily against the wood. “Because I’m a fallen too.”

- -

The next morning was calmer. For the first time ever, Vlad woke before Azazel. He smiled at Azazel’s sleeping form before slipping into his robe and quietly slinking from the room. To his joy, Ivan was still asleep as well. Yawning, Vlad began the first coffee pot of the day, one of many, and rooted around in the pantry for something edible. Unfortunately, he didn’t cook very often, sans toast and bacon, so the location of the cookbooks was somewhat of a mystery. Even after he found them, they were little help; one was in German, the other filled with complicated recipes he could never hope to decipher.

“Toast it is,” he muttered, reaching for the bag. This was pathetic! Here he was, lost in his own kitchen. He was growing too dependant on his blonde counterpart.

Even as he thought this, Azazel came in, rubbing his eyes. His loose bathrobe hung over horrifyingly thin shoulders, giving way around his knees to cotton pajama bottoms.

“Good morning,” Vlad greeted.

Azazel replied with a smile and sank into a chair. Vlad joined him at the table, coffee mug in hand. He set a cup of tea in front of Azazel. “Did you sleep well?”

The tired blonde nodded. He hadn’t slept well, but why ruin Vlad’s seemingly good mood? “What about you?” he asked, sipping his tea.

“My night could have been better, in all actuality. It would have been wonderful if he wasn’t here.”

Azazel nodded and returned his attention to his tea. He jumped, however, when the toaster popped, which made Vlad laugh.

“It’s not nice to laugh at people,” Azazel murmured, watching Vlad smear butter on the crispy bread.

“Sorry,” Vlad replied, setting the two pieces on the table. “And sorry about breakfast.”

Azazel looked forlornly at the toast. “Do you want me to cook?”

Vlad tried hard not to show his enthusiasm for the idea, he really did. Suddenly completely awake, Azazel began to move about the kitchen energetically, pulling things from the cupboards and the refrigerator. Within moments he was whipping batter in a bowl like a crazed man. Vlad was awestruck, not a single drop escaped the bowl.

“You should open a restaurant up here,” he said. “You’d put those humans out of business.”

“Perhaps.”

When Ivan entered as well, the kitchen became congested in Vlad’s opinion. “Good morning, Azazel,” Ivan exclaimed. “And you too, Vlad. I wasn’t expecting you to be up.”

Vlad opened his mouth to speak, but Azazel was quick to interject. “He was up before I was. It was a pleasant surprise. He even made my tea,” he said brightly.

“Did he now?”

“Mm hmm.” Azazel poured the batter into neat little circles on the skillet. “Which was very considerate, don’t you agree?”

Ivan glanced at Vlad, who was beaming at Azazel. “Yes, I suppose it was.”

Twenty minutes later, the group was too busy eating to talk.

“Vlad, was that really necessary,” Azazel asked, following the fuming Fallen down the hallway.

Vlad didn’t look at his companion, but kept on walking at his fast pace. He needed to get out of there for two reasons. One was a very angry Leader of the Fallen of Shadows and the other would most likely be a few other beings that would be after them shortly. He pissed off more then his fair share of important beings in one sitting, and still came out pissed. This whole situation was going from bad to worse in very short periods of time which made him feel like his hair was going to fall out.

“I’m sure that Kaggren got the point though,” Azazel continued, looking back at the empty hallway. “Apparently, they were all too shocked to move…”

Again, no reply from Vlad was forthcoming as they walked rather briskly down the halls of Kaggren’s palace. He was too busy fighting the two sides of his mind that said that either said that he had gone too far or not far enough. He couldn’t believe that he had lost his cool like that, and in front of the Leaders of all the other Elements as well. How stupid could he be?

“You are so dead!!!”

Upon hearing the roar of the Leader of the Shadows, Vlad threw all caution to the wind, took Azazel by the hand, and had them both running as fast as they could to the portal to the Mortal Plane. Ivan or not, he had to get out of here and let it cool down as much as Hell could. He had voiced his opinions, and knew that he was going to catch an earful for it. And he was stupid enough to have taken Azazel with him on his little venture. Well, misery and trouble both liked company and he sure was proving to be their little bitch.

Upon arriving at the house, Vlad didn’t let up the pace until he was in his room, Azazel breathing just as heavily from having to keep up with him and happy to finally be able to question the Fallen of Shadows of his actions. Vlad sat on the bed, face buried in his hands as he took deep breaths, trying to calm his burning lungs. He knew that he was in for it by Azazel, which he thought was much better then Kaggren or the others, but that didn’t mean that he enjoyed it any better.

“What were you thinking,” Azazel yelled, sitting on the floor. “Kaggren is going to have both of our heads for this!”

“It’s his fault for making that damn annoyance stick around,” Vlad replied, taking his head from his hands. “I mean, Michael wants him to study us? What’s there not to know? He’s one of the reasons any of us are down here at all. After all, he cast a rather good portion of us down to this level himself.”

“I don’t know,” Azazel admitted. “But I’m sure he has his reasons. And why Kaggren is making us do this is beyond me, but did you have to voice your…opinion…so loudly and with so much color?”

“They got what they had coming to them,” Vlad replied dryly. “However, I do think you’re right on the colorful thing. But too late to take any of that back now.”

Nodding, Azazel jumped as he heard the door creak open, with a pair of dark brown eyes staring at them. He was afraid that Vlad was going to snap and finally take care of Ivan right then and there, but something seemed to be holding him back. Intelligence? Azazel could only hope.

“What are you doing here, Ivan,” Azazel asked, his tone more surprised then angry.

“I heard yelling,” the Angel sighed. “And I hoped that I could finally make you see that he’ll never be what I could be for you…”

“Get. Out,” Vlad ground out. “Before. I. Fucking. Kill. You.”

“Vlad,” Azazel said in a small voice, scooting out of the way if the Fallen was going to go on the war path.

“That’s no way…” Ivan began, but left too much in a hurry to finish after Vlad stood up, eyes promising a very slow and painful death. Something both knew that he would be able to pull off without much trouble.

“Vlad,” Azazel said again, as the one in question sat back down on the bed, falling down, staring up at the ceiling. “What’s wrong?”

“Why am I such a natural born fuck up,” Vlad sighed. “It seems that no matter what I do, there’s always something going against me. “

“Don’t I know the feeling,” Azazel sighed. “But don’t worry. I’m sure that everything will clear up soon and they’ll leave us both alone for awhile.”

Getting up, falling to his knees, Vlad held onto the only being that gave his life meaning anymore. The only voice of reason in the chaos of his mind. As corny as it sounded in his mind even, he couldn’t find the willpower to take it back, since it was the truth. He just held Azazel tight, trying to get his bearings straight again, although his efforts seemed futile.

-scene change-

Ivan ran down the hallway, until he got to what was deemed as ‘his room’, where he wanting nothing more to hide under the bed. That was the first time that he had ever really been face to face with such an old power before. He knew that Vlad was slightly older then Azazel, but the younger didn’t have that imposing figure, that essence of danger. Vlad had it, and he had shown that he could use it as well, with just by the look of his eyes.

“Michael,” he called, and almost instantly, there was a projection of the Arch Angel in all his glory, arms folded and golden hair flowing around him with huge pure white wings folded loosely around him. “How am I supposed to go through with this with Vlad constantly watching my every move?”

“Faith, little one,” Michael replied. “You are my best, and I have faith in you. You must have faith in yourself, and you will achieve what I have sent you for. I rarely make mistakes, Ivan. Azazel was the first in many millennia.”

“I understand,” Ivan replied with a bow. “But he’s always with his protector. I don’t think that I’ll be able to get him alone, and he ignores my advances.”

“He did some work himself,” Michael smiled. “He and Kaggren are neck and neck right now, meaning that a brief separation is coming and then is when you strike, Ivan.”

Bowing again, Ivan watched as the image shattered into billions of small golden shimmers. So all he had to do was wait for Kaggren to summon Vlad for something. He had heard a little of the conversation as he was curious as to why Vlad was practically running with Azazel struggling to keep up. Azazel. He was an Angel as far as he knew and therefore higher then Vlad. Then why did it seem that he’d rather have Vlad boss him around like he did? What was really going on?

Deciding not to meddle in affairs that were above his status, Ivan fell face down into his bed, inhaling the soft scent of the laundry detergent that the covers had been washed in. Yes, Azazel deserved so much better. And with Michael promising that he would have his prize, to show him what a real lover would be like, he was sure that Vlad would fall into a pit of madness. Would serve him right, thinking that he could take what rightfully belonged to Heaven and therefore himself.

Allowing himself to drift off and plot, a small smile crept across his face as the images of Azazel smiling only for him filled his fantasies and dreams. Even if he knew that with the current set of circumstances, it would never happen like he wanted.