Title: Innocence Lost
Word count: 17 562
Centric: God and Lucifer
Notes: The first story in the Heavenly Chaos series, part two. Um, extra note- parts of this contradict the later parts of the story and some of the characterisation is slightly off, so when I've finished everything (in 5 years *rolls eyes at self*) this will be rewritten. This is it for now, though. (Well, except this: Gaia! So OOC! It BURNS!)






Lucifer resisted the strong urge to bash his head against a hard, solid surface and whimper like a small child. It never bode good things when God got like this. Maybe they should get Metatron to go down and warn people about the upcoming catastrophe, the way he did last time God chucked a hissy fit? The only thing was, warning them was all very well and good, but it didn't change the fact that there was a problem. Besides, over-populated as the world was in places, Lucifer didn't really think that wiping out everyone except one family and a bunch of animals was the way to go.

Lucifer cringed slightly, but he knew that it was up to him to set things straight. Having been God's best friend, archenemy and personal irritant for so many millions of years, he felt that it was his duty. Not that it was his fault. Of course not.

Even if Michael hadn't informed him that God's door was locked, Lucifer would have known that God was holed up in his room. Hoping that gaining access to said room was at all possible was apparently too much to ask, however. It wasn't all that surprising, though.

From God's recent behaviour, it might be easy to assume that he was a complete brat. This was not entirely the case. Although he could be somewhat sulky, he was actually rather intelligent and insightful. Also occasionally mature, but that was quite rare. Especially when he was with Lucifer. The thing was, God didn't tend to chuck tantrums unless there was a real reason. He was truly upset about the suffering-of-innocents thing, and it was understandable. Lucifer could feel the pained guilt radiating from his best friend and ill-fated object of love, and it hurt him just as much as it hurt God.

Of course, the other time when God would go all self-righteous and sulky was when Lucifer made a pass at him. Lucifer grinned evilly just at the thought. Really, he didn't see what was so bad about it!

For now, though, Lucifer had to get to the palace. Immediately. Sooner than was humanly possible, in fact, so it was just as well he was a Fallen angel. One with teleportation abilities, to boot.

As the Palace settings began to materialise around him, Lucifer reflected that it was indeed a pity that he couldn't just appear in God's bedroom(13). Because it was his living quarters and he was all too suspicious of the sorts of stunts Lucifer might attempt to pull, God had placed wards in his rooms. Curses.

Opening his senses as Michael had done previously, Lucifer tried to locate the aforementioned angel. When this mission was achieved, he set off in the right direction. Michael wasn't all that far from God, which was convenient, at any rate.

Stopping in the corridors, Lucifer sent Michael a brief warning as to his upcoming approach. Michael acknowledged his presence, and so Lucifer rounded the corner to meet the other immortal.

After exchanging short and obligatory pleasantries, the two got right down to business. Lucifer had already begun to understand what needed to be done, and so outlined the basics of his plan to Michael.

"Gaia probably already knows that something is up, but I think we seriously need to talk to her. If you could try and find her, that would be wonderful. I'm going to go rail at God from behind the locked door. One of us should try to contact poor Cassiel and Uriel, come to that. Oh, and Raphael. Not to mention Metatron and Gabriel. Knowing them, they probably all ended up in the same place, which is useful. I'd appreciate it if you could talk to Raphael- I know him well, but you know him better than anyone, so the mental link comes easier. Besides, I get the feeling that talking to God may need my full attention." Lucifer finished.

Michael nodded perfunctorily. It was all common sense, when one thought about it. After the angel promised to contact Gaia and the others, Lucifer heaved a sigh of relief. Great, now here came the hard part.

Steeling himself, Lucifer slowly made his way towards God's rooms. This was clearly not going to be all that fun. There was no way that God was going to unlock the door and let him in, that was for sure. He was highly likely going to be completely unreasonable, too. After all, he wasn't going to be in any state to think logically. Not if he was doing the whole flooding-thing again.

Stopping at his destination, Lucifer placed a hand tentatively on the elaborately carved wood of the door. Bracing himself, he tried to even his breathing, subconsciously tugging the forest-green cloak he wore closer. This was the part where he was meant to announce his presence. The thing was, he didn't know what God's reaction was going to be. He didn't usually have to make known his proximity to the purple-haired deity, as God could generally sense it regardless.

Lucifer automatically flinched in trepidation as he reached out. He had said it before, and he would say it again- this was not going to be pretty.

'G-God?'

For a while, there was no answer. Then, after several agonising minutes, God responded. Albeit the fact that it wasn't a very promising response, it was at least a start.

'Go away.'

Lucifer bit his lip. Well, that was pretty blunt. It also sounded suspiciously like the divinity had been crying. No, scratch that. Lucifer could tell that God had been crying violently and that he still was.

'God, open the door.'

'No. Leave me alone.' God's thoughts sounded mildly petulant, but they were tinged with a bleak despair that Lucifer didn't think he was meant to pick up on.

'God…' Lucifer sighed, resting his forehead against the wood. 'God, everyone's worried. I am worried. It's raining, and storming, and the wind is at gale force, and there's something wrong with you. I don't like it when you get upset. Why can't you just tell me?'

God snorted bitterly. 'It doesn't matter. Nothing matters.'

Lucifer thumped his fist hard against the door in frustration, neither noticing nor caring about the pain spreading through his hand.

'Quit talking like that! Of course it matters, you idiot! And don't you dare try any lines about almighty beings being incapable of stupidity, either, because I sure as hell know differently!' Lucifer ranted. He didn't often get angry, and when he did, it could be rather scary. Just take the Rebellion as an example.

'I wasn't meaning too.' God answered softly.

Lucifer was slightly unnerved. This was strange, unusual, and unnatural.

'Right. Well. I don't care what you say, I'm staying here until you let me in. And that's that.'

'Fine.' God sounded apathetic and lifeless. Not good. 'Just let me have peace. Please.'

Lucifer was somewhat affronted. God was acting funny. He wouldn't generally make requests of that nature, and more to the point, he would usually object vehemently to Lucifer's resolution to stay. Truly weird.

'Okay, if that's what you want. Just remember, I'm not leaving. I can sit here for years if that's what it takes, and you know I can,' Lucifer replied uncertainly. He really could sit for years, but he seriously hoped it wouldn't take that long. That would be bad for everyone.

Sitting down with his back against the door, Lucifer closed his eyes. Right now, it looked as though it could be a long wait. God wasn't really showing signs of relenting any time soon.

---

(13) Lucifer's mind led straight to the gutter from there. It took him several minutes to get his concentration back.



God scrubbed a hand across his cheeks, trying to wipe away the constant flood of tears streaming down his face. Unfortunately, it didn't work. They just kept on coming.

God did not look healthy. He was pale and exhausted, and his eyes were red and puffy from too much crying. He was also surrounded by broken wreckage, which didn't really add a very positive light to the scene. When God got upset, everyone ended up knowing about it.

Thus, God's rooms were partially destroyed and looked vaguely like a hurricane had passed through. Many objects had been thrown at the floor, walls, doors, etc, and now lay shattered, scattered pieces of debris strewn every which way. In the middle of it all lay God himself, too tired to care anymore. He was staring up at the ceiling blankly, not having the energy to move. His anger had taken everything he had, and now he just felt… empty. Like he had been hollowed out, and there was nothing left. That didn't stop the tears from coming, though. It seemed like nothing ever would.

Sniffling, God reflected that he hadn't meant for any of this to happen. The storm was just a mirror of his personal emotions- the rain for his tears and the wind and lightning for his rage. He couldn't help it any more than he could help having emotions. The storm would probably die down now that he'd ceased screaming and breaking things. However, until he'd stopped crying, the rain would continue indefinitely. Bleakly, he figured that it was likely that there would be another massive flood. Hopefully Metatron would get to Earth in time to warn everyone. By now, they should have sufficient technology for everyone with money to survive. Joy.

God had never wanted to be the cause of any pain, not really. Sure, he had the tendency to lose his temper and deal out some pretty terrible retribution(14) at times, but one thing he hadn't meant for was the suffering of innocents. Children who had never done anything were afflicted with misery and distress, and God couldn't help but feel that it was in some mysterious way his fault. When he took the blame for anything, it was always the wrong thing.

When God had created the Earth, he had been somewhat young and extremely naïve. His father and his mother had existed for all eternity, although to them, that had no meaning. After all, being Time, his mother was in all essence infinity itself. God hadn't really seen his parents much since his older sister Gaia had created the Universe, but he knew they were always there.

The thing was, Gaia had always been the creative one. It was she who had created the Universe and was titled the Mother of Life. God had idolised his sister, wanted to be just like her, and so he wanted to create like she did(15).

Gaia had formed the angels when her baby brother was born, to keep him company. There were only eight original angels: Lucifer, Metatron, Sandalphon, Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, Uriel and Cassiel. Of them, Lucifer was the most powerful and consequently God's best friend.(16) Of course, many more were born later, most of whom were made by God, but as God's mind was currently dwelling in the truly ancient past, that wasn't the point.

While God and his angels were close and together wreaked much havoc, he still wanted to make something of his own. So Gaia had helped him make the Earth. The planet was formed in the image of Heaven, and the animals were a product of Gaia and God's combined imaginations. The primates were always going to develop into humans- God couldn't resist creating mortals in the image of himself and his sister.

That was what was giving God so much trouble now. He had been so childlike and guileless, and hadn't considered the possible results of his actions. He was presently paying for it. If he hadn't been so stupid and selfish, there wouldn't be people paying for his idiocy now. He shouldn't have put sentient beings in a world where they would be punished only for the crime of existence.

Lucifer had been right when he called God an idiot. No matter what he or the bible said(17), God was not ineffable, omnipotent, omniscient, or omnibenevolent either, for that matter. (18)

So now, after a hefty amount of depressing and largely historical thoughts, God was ready to admit defeat. He wished he hadn't caused any of this to happen, and he also wished that Lucifer would leave him alone to wallow in his misery. Wallowing in his misery wasn't exactly productive or even satisfying come to that, but God wanted to do it anyway. He felt that he couldn't be truly achieving proper melodrama without getting in some solid wallowing time.

God knew that Lucifer really did mean what he said about hanging around for years if necessary. Lucifer was usually possessed of an extraordinarily long attention span, and when it came to God, he could be singularly tenacious. It was exasperating. Very exasperating. One of the most annoying instances where this applied was his utter faith in his belief that God should be capable of having relationships. More specifically, of having relationships with Lucifer. This particular point had been under rather heated debate for many years, and at least half of Heaven and Hell knew that it was the cause of the Rebellion. It was kind of hard to miss- it had been a rare moment when Lucifer got infuriated. That argument had been the most violent, loud and overall scary fit Lucifer had ever chucked, so unsurprisingly the whole of Heaven heard it. About a third of them had been on his side for whatever reason, so when he stormed out, quite a lot of angels went with him. God had yet again proved his extraordinary ability to hold grudges (specifically grudges against Lucifer) by refusing to talk to him for a whole millennia after the event.

However, while he was able to ignore Lucifer for long stretches, God was quite a sociable creature by nature. He got lonely. Mostly when he was snubbing Lucifer, he had his other friends to talk to. But this situation was different. Barricaded in his room, he wasn't going to last long. He'd break sometime soon, and he was aware of the fact.

Knowing that he would eventually have to give in and talk to the golden-eyed troublemaker was doing absolutely nothing except make God's dejection worse.

Outside, the rain got just a little bit heavier.

---

(14) A good example would be the destruction of the town Sodom. Just for the record, the men of Sodom weren't gay. They were just really horrible people. That was one of the facts that Lucifer had changed to get even with God.

(15) Not that God wanted to be the Mother of Life. There were certain... problems... with that.

(16) Not to mention personal fanclub/irritation/sleaze.

(17) Same thing, really. The bible was in a lot of ways just God's egotistical rant, propaganda and autobiography. Well, the parts influenced by him, anyway. A large proportion of it was twisted by Lucifer as petty payback.

(18) Meaning: no, God isn't all-powerful. He doesn't know all. He makes mistakes, and you know, he isn't perpetually and unconditionally good, either. For those who were wondering, though, he is omnilingual. It isn't as helpful as the other things might be, but it is still convenient in its own little way.*

*Being able to speak all languages wasn't really relevant at the current time, however, so that particular ability wasn't making God feel all that much better.



There was a silence after Cassiel finished speaking. Metatron stirred what was left of his soup absent-mindedly, and Gabriel stared at his hands. Finally, Raphael said the first thing that came to his mind just so that the silence would be broken.

"Dude."

Metatron started sniggering and couldn't stop. Gabriel smirked wanly and patted Metatron on the head, so used to this that it was an automatic reflex. None of them really knew how to react- finding out that Cassiel and Uriel didn't cause the storm had upset everything.

Right when Raphael was going to ask what happened next, he was interrupted. By Michael, of all people.

'Raphael?'

An extremely comic expression passed over the face of the spiky haired angel. His overall reaction, consisting of screaming like a little girl and falling backward off the couch, was even more entertaining. If Uriel had been awake, he would have been laughing at Raphael's pain at this point. As it was, the others were battling between confusion and amusement.

A few minutes later when Raphael had crawled back onto the couch and had managed to regulate his breathing, he glared at the prone Uriel as if it was somehow his fault. It wasn't, obviously, but the number of things Uriel had pulled through the millennia gave Raphael the right to be suspicious. Cassiel could sympathise.

'Uh, hi Mikey-boy.' Raphael eventually responded, somewhat sheepishly.

Michael sounded rather wry. 'I take it you weren't expecting me to contact you?'

There was an odd tone to Raphael's thoughts, and it took Michael a second to identify it- embarrassment. Raphael was considering changing a few details, but dismissed the idea. It just never worked on Michael, and he knew it.

'Well, not as such, no.'

'Ah. I thought as much. I take it you've heard some portion of the story from Uriel and Cassiel?'

Raphael blinked. Had he completely missed something?

'Wow, wow, hold on. How the hell did you know they were here?'

There was slight laughter from Michael's end. 'Lucifer guessed, correctly it would seem. I'll never understand how he does that.'

'Yeah, it's not as if it's an actual power he has or anything, unlike that whole teleportation jazz. Man, that's so unfair,' Raphael grumbled.

'Be that as it may, I assume neither Cassiel nor Uriel is entirely aware of the circumstances, are they?'

'Oh. Oh, yeah. That reminds me- Uriel is out cold.'

'Pardon?' Concern. Michael had a tendency to stay calm and mask his emotions, but he really did care about his friends and was a lot closer to them than one would first imagine, especially when it came to Raphael. That was definitely concern.

'Cass is mostly fine, but Uri wasn't able to handle the conditions combined with the walk. I think maybe the storm was reducing his energy- his power source is different to Cassiel. Instead of lending him energy, lightning he hasn't caused himself drains it. Cassiel's power relates to all water, not just rain, which is probably why he wasn't so badly affected. Just normal exhaustion, on his part.' Raphael had turned into professional mode while he was giving his diagnosis. It was funny, but in a way it was also slightly disturbing because he sounded so different.

Michael brushed several stands of long silver hair out of his blue eyes. 'I see. So will Uriel be quite fine?'

Raphael shrugged clinically. 'It depends. I would expect a few minor side-effects, but on the whole, he should survive.'

'I'm sure he'll be glad to know that you're so concerned for his suffering,' Gabriel butted in.

Raphael snorted. 'Yeah. You mean he'll be constantly complaining and exaggerating his apparent pain?'

Gabriel grinned. "Exactly."

'Anyway,' Raphael continued, 'we got distracted. What did you want to tell us, Mikey?'

It was just as well Michael was such a placid kind of person, otherwise Raphael might have been severely wounded by now for his constant and excessive use of the odious nickname throughout the ages.(19) 'God is upset. He's locked in his room, and the storm is apparently being caused by him.'

Only Michael could say something that vitally important and shocking so bluntly without any warning. There was a cacophony as everyone responded all at once with varying degrees of shock. Cassiel had gone to check on Uriel in Metatron's room. It was probably the noise that caused the patient to stir, but whichever way, Cassiel noticed immediately.

"Raphael?"

No one heard him- Raphael and Metatron were making enough noise for a busy main road during rush hour. Cassiel decided to try again, and yell loudly this time.

"RAPHAEL!"

Well, that certainly silenced the chaos. The angels were so unused to Cassiel screaming that it cut right through the noise and ended with complete quiet.

Cassiel flushed slightly. He didn't usually yell, and it was a bit nerve-wracking to have everyone looking at him like that. With fear and awe, of all things.

"Uriel's waking up," Cassiel stated lamely.

'Sorry, Mikey! Gotta go!'

All at once everything started up again. Metatron resumed his very unhelpful state of helpfulness, Gabriel persuaded him to go make more soup, and Raphael reverted back to his physician mindset. Cassiel didn't know exactly what he should do, so figured he'd stay next to Uriel and be there when his best friend woke up.

Raphael put his hand to Uriel's forehead again. "Well, his fever has definitely gone down, but he still feels pretty hot."

Cassiel bit his lip. "I feel kind of in the way. Is there anything you'd like me to do?"

Raphael considered the question. "Some wet towels would be good. After that, you might want to counsel Metatron. You two are pretty good friends, and I believe calming Met is too big a job for Gabe alone."

Cassiel nodded and stood up. "I'll go get the towels. Just call me when Uri wakes up."

Raphael agreed somewhat distractedly as he began exerting his power gently. He could heal practically anything, but it took time and effort. Cassiel walked off and shortly returned with a damp cloth.

Raphael smiled wanly. "Thanks. He should be conscious soon, if you want to stay here."

Cassiel tugged on his braid indecisively. "Well-"

Metatron came out of the kitchen then, carrying another bowl of soup with a concerned Gabriel following and fussing like a mother hen.

"Met, put the soup down, you don't want to drop it."

Metatron carefully placed the bowl down on the coffee table and then collapsed onto the couch, giggling hysterically to himself. He had a tendency to do that when he was on edge. In between his laughter, he managed to gasp out what had set him off this time.

"You make it sound like the soup is some kind of weapon! Alright, please put the soup down. Okay, now step away from the soup." He started giggling again.

Gabriel hovered next to him uncertainly. "It wasn't that funny, Met. Stop laughing, you're almost hyperventilating. Breathe, ok? In, out, in, out. Got it?"

Metatron was trying to slow his breathing down, but without much success. He was starting to shake- at the moment, it was either hysterical laughter or he'd burst into hysterical tears. Casting an apologetic look towards the other angels, Gabriel placed a hand under Metatron's neck and under his knees and hauled him up, carrying him towards the other bedroom. Metatron being in a state was the last thing they needed. He was a great friend usually, but he really wasn't someone you wanted around during a crisis. Gabriel dropped Metatron on his bed in the lair of incense and gloom, as Raphael had so charmingly dubbed it, and went to get him another glass of water.

Meanwhile, Uriel had begun to stir in earnest. As his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he noticed was that he felt incredibly hot, that he couldn't exactly breath, and that his throat was killing him.

When he attempted to speak, the only result was a weird sounding croak. Great- he had caught the dreaded cold.

Uriel reflected that if there were one thing in this Universe that he hated above all else, it was illness. You couldn't do anything, you felt miserable, there was no foreseeable end in sight, and worst of all, you couldn't even sleep. Sleeping made things worse.

Vaguely, Uriel registered that there were voices near him. Voices that sounded suspiciously familiar, come to that. In fact, one of the voices bore an incredible likeness to Raphael, certified angel of healing. There was a light at the end of the tunnel.

Uriel attempted to speak again, wincing as swallowing made his throat feel ten times worse. "Raphael… Need healing. Urg." Great. His voice sounded absolutely hideous.

Cassiel was there too. Uriel couldn't make out what he was saying, but he sounded relieved. Raphael shrugged.

"Prove it."

Uriel groaned. "Bastard. I feel cruddy, I sound cruddy, therefore I am cruddy."

Raphael laughed. He couldn't help causing Uriel to suffer just a little; he was so relieved it was nothing major.

"Yeah, you look cruddy too."

Uriel coughed. "Fool! I never look cruddy. I'm too sexy to look cruddy."

Cassiel rolled his eyes. Trust Uriel. Sick and miserable, he still managed to maintain an ego the size of small galaxy. Wait, scratch that. Uriel's ego was far bigger and all encompassing than that.

Raphael grinned. "Fine. If you don't look cruddy, then you're obviously not sick enough to need healing."

"Wait!" Uriel whimpered. "I look cruddy, I look cruddy! Just heal me already!" Cassiel began to laugh. He couldn't help it; Uriel was just so silly sometimes.

Raphael sighed in mock regret. "Sorry, Uri. Haven't you ever heard the expression 'there's no cure for the common cold'?"

Uriel growled. "Have you ever heard the expression, 'I am going to kill you slowly and painfully'?"

Raphael held his hands up in defeat. "Okay, I get the point, calm down! I'm healing, I'm healing, just don't hurt me!"

"Mmph. Be lucky I feel shitty, otherwise I would have already smote you." Uriel croaked.

"In that case, maybe he should just leave you to wallow in your misery," Cassiel interrupted.

Uriel tried to glare at his best friend, but it was pretty pathetic as glares go. It rated less than a one on the scale of death-glares, as a matter of fact. Raphael decided to take pity, and use his powers to cure Uriel. They had teased him long enough.

"Relax, Uriel. Otherwise you'll make it harder for me to do my thing."

Uriel, upon realising that Raphael didn't have the intention of being completely heartless, stopped tensing his muscles and flopped apathetically back down onto the pillows. There was a cool tingly feeling associated with the healing, and in its own way, it was kind of soothing. Uriel felt the evil illness begin to recede, and then an overwhelming tiredness caused him to sink back into sleep. Cassiel brushed the damp cloth across Uriel's forehead.

Meanwhile, it was reaching the evening and people were starting to get sleepy. Metatron was only half awake, and Raphael was practically falling over from exhaustion. Having returned to some semblance of normality(20) by now, Metatron had got up and wandered off to join the others. Gabriel was getting coffee.

"Uriel is fine now, isn't he? I'm sorry I'm so useless when there's a problem," Metatron apologised, ending his sentence with a yawn.

Raphael ruffled Metatron's hair. "Don't worry about it. No one blames you, and besides, the chicken soup really did help. I don't think I would have had enough energy, otherwise."

At that point, Gabriel returned. "Raphael, you can sleep on my bed if you want. You look half dead."

Raphael made a face. "What, in your pagan lair?"

Gabriel hit him. "My room rocks, quit paying it out. At least it isn't buried in clothes and junk like yours is."

"Yeah, it's buried in candles and junk instead," Raphael retorted.

"Oh, shut up. How about we concede that our rooms are equally cluttered and move on with our lives?"

"Fine. Both our rooms are pigsties compared to Met and Mikey, anyway."

With that, Raphael departed to the dungeon of gloom and Metatron curled up on one of the couches. Gabriel grabbed two blankets and threw one at him.

"We'll sleep out here. You're fine to share with Uriel, right Cass?"
Cassiel nodded and departed for Metatron's bedroom. Gabriel stretched and collapsed onto the other couch.

"Night, Met."

Metatron mumbled something that was probably meant to be "Night, Gabe," but ended up sounding incoherent. Gabriel willed the lights off, and not long afterwards there was no one in the quarters awake.

---

(19) Truth be told, Michael didn't actually mind all that much. Pet names were a sign of endearment, and he and Raphael were really very close. Just for the record, Raphael was the only one who could get away with it unconditionally.

(20) Metatron normality, that is. So not really normal by normal people standards.



Gaia was curled up on her bed reading, only moving when it was time to turn the page. The room was also completely silent, the solitary sound being the tick of the clock above her desk(21). There was a knock on the door, and Gaia continued to read.

"Come in, Michael." She turned the page again.

The door opened gently and Michael walked in, shutting it softly behind him. Almost all the other angels couldn't help feeling slightly disturbed and uncertain in Gaia's presence, but he had always got on rather well with her. They both had similarly calm and implacable personalities.

"Gaia."

Gaia put the bookmark in and placed the book down beside her, front cover facing upwards. Michael could read the title, and clinically noted that it was a book he owned and a very well read one at that. Dostoyevski's "The Idiot".

"I assume this relates to brother."

Michael bowed his head in confirmation. "Indeed. Knowing you as I do, I would assume that you are aware that God is ensconced in his room."

The corner of Gaia's mouth twitched. "Is that so? I rather believed that that might have been the case. Brother has a rather temperamental nature, and I fear that it can cause him pain at times such as this. Whichever way, under the circumstances there is nothing we can do. I'm afraid that the only course of action available to us is to leave him be and allow Lucifer to deal with it."

Michael sighed. "Somehow I suspected you would say that or something of the like."

The goddess shrugged. "What more can I do? I love my brother, and thus I know that Lucifer is the only one who can help him. He may deny it, but Lucifer means more to him than any other being in this or any other plane of existence. He is scared of intimacy in any relationship, and has always kept something back. Lucifer reached the last barrier millions of years ago, and since then Yizriel has done all within his power to prevent him getting any further. In my opinion, Yizriel is running out of time. Personally I feel that that is a good thing, and that he needs to let everything go to Lucifer. Until he does, he is going to be teetering on an emotional knifepoint and incidents like this will continue to occur. Does that answer any questions you may have had?"

Michael merely blinked, not at all surprised by Gaia's in-depth psychoanalysis. He was obviously aware of the situation existing between God and Lucifer- practically everyone was, and he'd been there from the start. Not to mention the fact that he was one of God's closest friends after Luce. "I… suppose?"

"Wonderful." Gaia smiled sweetly. "Now that that is out of the way and we have established that there is absolutely nothing we can do to help, I suggest we move onto more relevant topics. Specifically, the topic of Raphael(22)."

Michael's eyes flickered, but he retained the same bland expression. "I hardly think that he would appreciate being called a topic."

Gaia raised her eyebrow. "Be that as it may, I believe he is a subject that we need to discuss."

Michael glanced briefly toward the door. "How so?"

Gaia crossed her legs. "I doubt that you need it spelled out, Michelangelo mia(23)."

Michael watched the deity warily. "That has not been my name for a long time, nor do I consent to being labelled as your property."

Gaia slapped her hand down on the desk. "Michelangelo! I created you, and you had best not forget it! You might be the angel of Justice, but I am a Goddess. You will show your respect."

Michael knelt, but he did not look happy. "My Goddess, accept my humble apology. I meant no disrespect. However, I must say you are being rather more touchy than you are usually given to be."

Gaia shook her head. "Michael, please rise. I have no desire to subject you to my will. As for being touchy… well. I have attempted on numerous occasions to discuss this particular issue with you, as you are fully aware. This constant avoidance becomes trying after awhile. I know you do not want to hear what I have to say, but believe me when I tell you that it is necessary."

Hesitantly, the archangel rose to his feet, still considering the odds of various possible escapes. None of them were looking very likely. It was such a pity- he and Gaia usually got on so well, too.

"If that is what you believe, my Goddess, then so be it. Speak if you will," he responded heavily.

"I understand exactly what that statement has cost you, Michael, and I thank you for your cooperation."

He smiled ruefully. "Did I ever have a choice?"

Gaia laughed. "No. Michael, I believe we have stalled, procrastinated and generally avoided the matter for long enough. We will talk, and we will do it now. What is the precise nature and extent of your feelings towards Raphael?"

He studied her curiously. "Pardon? I don't believe I understand the question."

"No changing the subject, Michael. Answer the question."

Michael rested his hand across his eyes. "Given your usual way of doing things, I would assume that you either already know or at least suspect what my answer would be. Therefore, I fail to see the point of degrading myself in such a manner."

Gaia gave him a look. "Is there a particular reason for your foul mood, or is it simply a side-effect of the weather?"

Michael stared at her incredulously. "Pardon? Have you somehow completely neglected to notice the fact that it is currently storming due to your brother's emotional turbulence?"

Gaia's mild expression didn't change. "How could I have?"

"That was what I was wondering. Because otherwise that question would seem somewhat out of place, no?" Michael's reply held the slightest hint of sarcasm.

"Michael, you are very well aware that I was being sardonic. I realise you are under pressure, and of course you are worried about my brother. You are, after all, his champion. However, you and I both know that that isn't the real cause of your distress. Please cease trying to evade my questions and give me a direct response."

"What do you hope to gain from this, Gaia? The only thing you are achieving is causing me great pain." Michael was beginning to tire of this seemingly endless game, and the weary tone of his voice reflected it.

"What I hope to gain is you acknowledging your affection for the angel in question. It is unhealthy for you to bottle things so extreme within yourself. You need to learn to show your emotions more." The advice was a bit hypocritical and Gaia knew it, but she vindicated it by reasoning that the ends justified the means.

"Do you know what it is that you ask of me, my goddess? As the angel of Justice, I am supposed to remain objective and take whatever way necessary to avert the perversion and aid the course of justice. Such favouritism would severely compromise my impartiality! Do you not recall the trouble this caused last time? What about Belial and Sammael?" Michael argued.

"I do not think that you quite see the point, dear Michael. Whether or not you desire it to be so, you don't really have all that much choice in the matter. Given that you are stuck with the situation, the best thing seems to me to be not to conceal it so. That will eventually destroy you." Gaia maintained the same view she had held the whole way along, which was probably what was making it so hard for Michael. His case seemed to be shifting beneath him like quicksand.

"But-" Michael protested fruitlessly. Gaia cut him off.

"Michael, I begin to wonder if you even comprehend exactly what it is that I refer to."

Michael was understandably confused. "I was under the impression that we were discussing my friendship with Raphael."

Gaia threw her hands up in the air and groaned in frustration. "Why me? Why?"

Michael brushed nervously at his waist-length hair, reflecting absently that he really ought to plait it or get it cut sometime. "I believe I may have missed something."

"I would certainly agree with that," Gaia muttered sourly. Then louder, she addressed her next statement towards the angel in front of her. "Michael, I don't see any way of resolving this in the imminent future. You and I are working on completely different levels. Why don't you go away for now and at least consider what I've told you, hm?"

Michael bowed gratefully. "I thank you, Gaia."

"Yes, of course," Gaia murmured amusedly. "Go on, off with you. It's into the wee hours of the morning, and you really should start heading back round about now."

Nodding, Michael turned and left the way he came. Gaia gazed thoughtfully after him for a minute or two, then cast her eyes up toward the ceiling in supplication. "Men!"

---

(21) The time system on Earth was actually modelled after the original in Heaven. However, in Heaven it happened automatically- the sun was just an excuse to prevent scientists from going insane.

(22) Gaia had been attempting to broach this particular topic for a very long time now. Every time she brought it up, Michael would find a new way to evade it. All in all, it was becoming very frustrating.

(23) Gaia was very attached to the Latin and Italian languages, and often had a tendency to call the angels by the lengthened or ancient version of their names. She was also very possessive of the 8 original angels that she had created, especially Michael.



Lucifer had been sitting next to the door for at least an hour now, and his lower half was starting to go numb. Groaning, he let his head thump back against the woodwork. He couldn't help unless God let him, dammit! The worst thing was, he could feel just how wan and apathetically depressed his best friend was right now. God had reached the breaking point and overstepped the boundary, and Lucifer could feel it. It wasn't pleasant, to say the least.

Still, Lucifer had meant what he had said. He could stay here for centuries if need be. Heavens knew he didn't have a life, although Uriel might object on grounds of feeling insulted. The thing was, life(24) just wasn't worth living without God to harass. He had spent the whole millennia when God wasn't talking to him moping around coming up with half-hearted plans of seduction. Needless to say, he had never tried any of them out and Uriel had mocked him mercilessly. At least Gabriel had been sympathetic, though. At the time he'd made a rather biting comment about knowing who your friends really were. Lucifer paused in his thoughts. Okay, he'd thought it was biting at the time. Uriel had laughed at him more.

Really, though, Lucifer's point was that he needed God like normal people needed, say, water and oxygen(25). As Gaia would have it, the opposite was also true, but Lucifer didn't really know this, per se. Whichever way, Lucifer intended to hang around and do whatever he could to snap God out of it until he was successful.

Lucifer was sighing for what seemed the 5 millionth time when suddenly the nice solid door… disappeared. Having been leaning practically all his weight on it, he went crashing down to the floor and found himself staring up into the tear-stained face of God.

God's dark amethyst hair, usually so shiny and silky, looked tangled and lifeless. His deep red eyes were puffy, and his skin was pale and clammy. His usually immaculate white robes were crumpled and a little dirty, and the lavender brocade over-robe that was usually only slightly off the shoulder was falling down his arms. In ten words or less, God looked completely washed out. Lucifer felt a wave of compassion go tiding over him, and he pushed himself up from the freezing marble floor to hopefully be of some comfort.

God sniffled and scrubbed a linen sleeve across his face. The sleeves of his robe were loose and flowed down past his hand, so he had curled the edges up round his fingers. He looked endearingly child-like and forlorn, so Lucifer gave in to his initial reaction.

Pulling God forward into a tight hug, Lucifer stroked the soft waves of hair while the deity began to sob uncontrollably once more. Murmuring soft soothing noises, Lucifer stood there and just held the distraught immortal, occasionally kissing him on the head. Eventually God's tears subsided, but they continued to stand there like statues, God's arms curled around Lucifer's neck and his head buried in his arch-rival's shoulder. Lucifer absentmindedly rubbed God's back.

"Shh, it's okay, don't cry, please don't cry, baby. Everything's gonna be just fine, it's all gonna be alright, just don't cry." Lucifer barely even knew what he was saying- all he wanted to do was keep God calm.

Finally, God spoke. His voice sounded choked up and exhausted, and even if you couldn't see him you would have known he had been in tears. "I didn't want to make them cry."

Lucifer knew what God meant. He smiled sadly and shook his head.

"I know, we all know. You never meant to hurt blameless children. But think about it- would you rather suffer and be allowed to experience the joy with the sorrow, or to have not experienced anything at all? Haven't you ever heard the saying that 'tis better to have loved and lost than to have never have loved at all'? A human wrote that. Most of those children, they may be in pain but would prefer to keep living in the pain than to die and lose it all, or even to have never lived in the first place. Life is a precious but dangerous gift, and you have to be careful when you give it. Every mother makes that choice, and it's the same choice you and Gaia made. Giving life is selfish in a way, but it's also the supreme act of love. If they were given the chance, I'm sure almost every one of those wounded innocents would tell you to make the same decision again."

God looked up at him then, and it was like a part of him had died. His innocence, his naïveté? Maybe. Lucifer didn't know whether God would look at things the same way ever again now that the damage was done, but it seemed that he finally had been brought to understand the delicate balance between joy and sorrow, life and death. "Do you see what I'm trying to tell you?" Lucifer asked gently.

God smiled. It was a pretty pathetic smile as smiles go, but it was the first time since the whole mess had begun. It was then that Lucifer realised that everything really was going to be all right.

Still smiling, God's eyes slid shut and his body went limp in Lucifer's arms. His energy was spent, but it wasn't until the anguish had been lifted from his mind that he was able to sleep. Brushing back one of the long strands of loose hair from the sleeping face, Lucifer picked God up tenderly and carried him over to the massive bed, placing him down on the covers and curling up beside him.

Not long after, the two figures were entwined together, both smiling gently in their sleep.

---

(24) Life, afterlife, not life, whatever. Lucifer had come to the conclusion that as keeping it straight* in his mind was impossible he didn't intend to even try anymore.

(25) In Uriel's words, Lucifer felt that normality was for the weak.

*Then again, keeping anything straight when referring to Lucifer was asking rather a lot.



Slipping softly through the carpeted hallways, Michael began to deliberate over what Gaia had told him. He didn't quite understand what she had been referring to if not his friendship with Raphael- he was quite sure that they had been talking about the angel in question. However, he had apparently missed something somewhere, a feeling he was not entirely accustomed to. To be perfectly honest, the whole thing was troubling him for some reason.

Shaking his head, Michael opened the door as quietly as he could. It was almost dawn, so he had correctly assumed that the others would, by now, have drifted off into sleep. It had been a long and rather tiring day, all told.

Walking through the living room, Michael suppressed a tiny smile. At some point during the evening, Metatron had managed to fall off his couch and was lying sprawled over the floor, blankets slipping. Michael pulled them back up, and reflected that Metatron would probably be rather sore by the time he woke up. Complaints were looking imminent.

Quietly stepping around the couches, he made his way into the room where Raphael was sleeping. He had reasoned that there was no way that the angel of healing would ever allow a patient to sleep in a 'lair of gloom and incense' as he had so lovingly put it, no matter how recovered they seem. Since Metatron and Gabriel were in the living room having gladly given up their rooms for guests, it clearly meant that Raphael had to be in Gabriel's room.

Hovering in the doorway, Michael's eyes held a far more gentle light than one who didn't know him well would think possible. Raphael, unable to sleep in his leather or denim, was down to his boxers. It also seemed that he had kicked the sheets off at some point- Heaven had seasons much like Earth, but far more accurate. Right now, they were in their equivalent of summer.

Michael made his way over to the bed and gently tugged one of the thinner sheets up around Raphael's waist. Then he pulled off his black slip on shoes and began to braid his waist-length silver hair. Raphael would mock him, but he at least was of the opinion that comfort came before dignity. He didn't really fancy the idea of his hair getting sweaty and sticky.

Padding back out of the room, Michael checked on Cassiel and Uriel briefly, smiling slightly at their peaceful forms before shutting the door softly and walking back into the main area. There was a chair which was currently unoccupied, so Michael sank back into it and let himself drift to sleep. Like Metatron, he would feel it in the morning, but even angels need their sleep.

Besides, Raphael might possibly be feeling generous enough to do a little more healing for friends in need.



Cassiel felt fuzzy and warm, and briefly wondered why. He couldn't seem to remember what had happened the day before, either, but had the suspicion that it was important. He tried to push himself up, but there seemed to be some sort of weight restraining him. Tiredly, he rubbed a hand across his eyes and opened them to find that Uriel was literally curled around him and had his head buried in Cassiel's shoulder.

Not altogether surprising. Uriel was a very active sleeper, just like he was in waking hours. It was almost like he had too much energy to contain- he talked, sleepwalked, rolled around endlessly and often ended up with the covers twisted all around him. He had an automatic "teddy-bear" reaction, too- he often woke with his legs and arms curled around bedclothes, soft toys, and pillows alike. Obviously, Cassiel fell into this category.
Cassiel decided that there was no need to wake Uriel up early this morning. There was, after all, no real reason why he couldn't sleep in today. He had been sick, too, never mind the fact that he had already been healed by the almighty Raphael.

Keeping these thoughts in mind, Cassiel slid an arm loosely around Uriel's waist and his other hand buried itself in the messy midnight blue locks of hair. He smiled. Maybe it was a little hot, but he didn't really care all that much.

Outside, the sun was shining.



Blinking slowly awake, God became gradually aware of an unexpected weight on him. It took a few seconds to figure things out, but he eventually realised that for some reason, he was sharing a bed with Lucifer of all people. The realisation that they were both fully clothed didn't come until after he had screamed at the top of his lungs and shoved Lucifer out. Neither did the remembrance of what had taken place the night before, but God decided to deal with that later.

Hitting the ground with a thud, Lucifer woke suddenly to a jolt of pain. Sitting up and rubbing his arm, he shook his head a few times in dazed bewilderment before noticing God. Eyes narrowed, he began to glare in the menacing fashion of one who has just suffered a most rude awakening.

"What the hell was that for?" Lucifer demanded.

God, sitting up in bed, crossed his arms. "That's what you get for taking advantage of me, you lecherous jerk!"

"Taking advantage of you?" Lucifer yelped indignantly. "We're both fully clothed, or did that entirely escape your notice?"

"I wouldn't put anything past you! Besides, what are you doing in my bed?" God shot back.

"God, I would just like to take this moment to inform you that you are insane. And so very, very paranoid," Lucifer informed him pleasantly.

"Takes one to know one. Out of my rooms, move it! Go! SHOO!" God squawked, and nudged Lucifer with his foot.

Lucifer rolled his eyes and staggered to his feet. "Alright, alright. I'm moving already. Jeez. One would think I was your archenemy the way you're carrying on."

God stared at him icily. He reconsidered his last statement. "Well, ok. Point taken. But they wouldn't know that I'm one of your best friends, that's for sure."

"Yes? And?" God asked politely.

"I don't think you're being very friendly," Lucifer complained.

"Really? I don't think I could care less," God told him sweetly. "Are you going, or do I have to give you a little encouragement?"

Lucifer raised his eyebrow. "Encouragement?"

"Yes, exactly. In the form of a little bolt of lightning, so hurry up!" God gestured in a vaguely threatening manner. Lucifer laughed.

"No need to get all huffy, I'm leaving already!"

God smirked. "Good, I need to get changed."

Lucifer wrinkled his nose. "Ah. Might've known there'd be an ulterior motive there somewhere."

God looked at him pointedly. "I believe you were in the midst of leaving?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you later, sourpuss!" Lucifer called over his shoulder.

"Stuff you too!" God yelled back cheerfully. The only response was the slight click of the door and a barely audible snigger. Looking down at the rumpled sheets of the bed, God's face softened. "I really ought to have said thankyou," he murmured quietly.

Walking back along the halls to find his friends, Lucifer reflected that he might have spoken too soon in regards to permanent effects on God's psyche.

After all, some things never changed.