Fallen

Tue, 01 Mar 2005 11:36:19 GMT

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.

Sun, 13 Feb 2005 13:49:50 GMT

Title: Innocence Lost
Word count: 17 562
Centric: God and Lucifer
Notes: The first story in the Heavenly Chaos series. (In two parts, with a link to part 2 at the bottom.)

Two figures rested on a hill overlooking the lower city of Heaven, one sprawled out languidly and one sitting hunched up with arms braced on his legs and his chin resting in his hands. Lucifer, hands linked behind his head, wore a very self-satisfied smirk. His shaggy, shoulder-length vibrant green hair almost blended in to the grass in a mock halo around his head, and his burnished golden eyes gleamed mischievously.

God, on the other hand, did not look happy. His long strands of dark violet hair fell freely over his tensed up shoulders, the rest of it pulled back into a loose ponytail. His deep blood red eyes had an air of extreme annoyance about them, and the scowl darkening his features bespoke much vengeance and smiting.

Throwing his hands up into the air suddenly, God flopped back down to the ground with a thump and began to mutter darkly under his breath. Lucifer watched him curiously for a few seconds, but made no comment. He was curious of what God was up to, yes, but was quite willing to wait for God to clarify his irritable mood. God eventually felt that he had to express himself more obviously.

"Gah!"

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Eloquent. Mind giving a bit more detail?"

God's expression grew even fouler. "Oh, shut up. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not in a good mood."

Lucifer rolled his eyes, voice dripping absolute sarcasm at this unexpected revelation. "No, really? I never would have guessed! Well, fearless leader, speak of your anguish so that I may go do your bidding. Although, you know, I really do think you should do your own smiting. Or let Uriel do it, isn't that what he's meant to do? I always told him he was lazy."

God stuck his tongue out. "Idiot. I don't know why I put up with you. Anyway, I'm not your fearless leader. Isn't that the point?"

Lucifer considered this. "Depends what the point is, really. But if it is the point, then it's your fault anyway, so don't blame me."

God stared at him. "How exactly did you come up with that one?"

"Easy. My Falling was a direct result of your complete pig-headedness, not to mention, if you recall, your inability to apologise."

God blinked. "That is such an incredibly stupid statement. You're the one who chose to Fall. I didn't make you. Which means, if there is any fault, it still belongs to you. Besides, you deserved it."

Lucifer rolled onto his stomach so he could face God. "I believe the matter of whether my enforced Fall was justified or not is still under debate."

God scoffed. "Come on! I'm not the one who chucked a complete spastic, am I? Besides, stop being so pompous. You sound like a lawyer. Or Michael. Anyway, enforced? We just covered that!"

"Eh, enforced is as good a word as any. You drove me to it. And me, a lawyer? What an awful thought. I'll be leaving that to Mikey, if you please. Although, I don't think I'd be too bad, now that I think about it. I'd make a good lawyer. A barrister, maybe. They're meant to be belligerent and argumentative, aren't they? Belligerent and argumentative is what I do best!"

"No disputing that," God muttered.

"Whichever way," Lucifer continued, "I wasn't the one who was being a stubborn pig-headed brat, was I?"

God sighed. "Give it a rest. We've been over this before. I'm obviously superior to you, so why bother?"

Lucifer grinned triumphantly. "Ah, but that's just what you say because you can't think of anything else and you know I've won."

God glared at him. "Yeah, whatever. Say what you will. Just because you're not mature enough to concede to my victory."

Lucifer shrugged. "And that is also what you say because you can't think of anything better and you know I've won. What was that about maturity, again? You're a fine one to talk. Hypocrite."

"I am too mature. I'll have you know I'm millions of years old, so hah!"

"Yep, real mature. I'm millions of years old too, try another one."

"Silence, foolish morta- oh. Wait a second."

"You know, mortals don't tend to be millions of years old." Lucifer commented idly.

"Shut up." God growled.

"Make me."

"No. I can't be bothered. Besides, the argument isn't over yet."

"Yes it is. I won."

"It is not. And you did not." God sniffed loftily.

"Did too." Lucifer shot back. His mode of attack was one tried and true throughout the ages.

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Too!"

"Not!"

"Too!"

"Not not not not not not not!" God snapped. There was a long silence. Lucifer started laughing, and God glowered at him balefully.

"God, how about we conclude that I am indeed far cooler than you and possess an intellect far superior to yours and move on? Like, say, to why you're sulking?"

"I am not sulking. I do not do sulking. I'm just brooding," God responded automatically. Then he realised that Lucifer had gotten the last word, and that it was also too late to do anything about it. "Damn."

"You know, going around saying 'damn' might not be such a great idea for you. I mean, there's always that small possibility that it might actually happen."

"Well maybe I want to damn you," God muttered childishly.

Lucifer made a face. "What kind of stupid comment is that? Unless you've forgotten, you should be fully aware that I'm already damned. I'm very much damned; in fact, I'm running the show down there in the land of said damned. I thought you were aware of that, unless you're getting senile in your old age."

God seethed indignantly. "I am not getting senile! I'm omnipotent, I don't get senile!"

"Keep telling yourself that and you may just believe it. However, right now I'm more interested in the reason for your highly strung sulking."

"I don't sulk," God replied absently.

"Yeah, whatever, I know. You don't do sulking; you're brooding omnipotently. So, go on- why?"

God bit his lip. "It's kind of silly, really. I mean, it's humans again."

Lucifer groaned. "Oh, not again! Last time you had a hissy fit over them you flooded the whole bloody planet!"

God sat up and crossed his arms defensively. "They deserved it!"

Lucifer shook his head. "I begin to sense a pattern here. Maybe you should lay off the justice and let Michael do his job in peace."

God gave Lucifer a dirty look. "Why don't you mind your own business?"

"Ah, but it is my business. I haven't noticed the humans doing anything particularly bad, recently, so what's your problem?"

"Well, they're not following the commandments anymore. I mean, come on! I tell them 'thou shalt not steal', and what to they do? Stealing becomes a new favourite. I tell them 'thou shalt not kill', and they murder each other left, right and centre. I tell them 'thou shalt not commit adultery', and suddenly it becomes everyone's favourite pastime! Whatever happened to 'thou shalt not'?" God whined.

Lucifer passed a hand over his eyes tiredly. "It's not exactly their fault, as such. You can't really blame them."

God pouted. "Why not? I bet you're just saying that. You're doubtlessly delighted by it. In fact, the existence of adultery is probably all your fault!"

"Don't be a daft blockhead. You of all people should know that the whole me being evil thing is just your very inconvenient propaganda. I wish you would do something about that, by the way. You know it's not true, and it was just petty revenge after I Fell. Not only did you not speak to me for a millennia, you spread nasty rumours down on Earth! Geez(1)!" Stopping to catch his breath, Lucifer shook his head. "Whichever way, I actually happen to prize loyalty quite dearly," Lucifer went on, ignoring God's snort of disbelief. "But my point was that you created them. You should have known that this would happen if you're so all-knowing."

God shook his head. "What would you expect me to do? I couldn't have made them mindless slaves. That would defeat the whole point- they're supposed to be rational, individual beings, like us."

Lucifer smiled wryly. "Maybe not, but in giving them free-will, you gave them the choice to do wrong. And in case you haven't noticed, we do wrong too. And none of us always do exactly what you want, either. It's a part of the territory."

"Yeah, I have noticed, actually. You being the prime example. But if I stopped them whenever they tried to make a bad decision, then I wouldn't really be giving them freedom at all, would I?"

Lucifer contemplated this. "Well, no. So either you're going to have to let them be and sort it out themselves, or you'll have to think of something else to do. Maybe you need to do something visible and flashy to put the fear of God into them?" He paused and sniggered. "Literally, come to think of it."

God wrinkled his nose. "Don't be ridiculous. Flashy is so old-testament."

Lucifer tried to choke back his unadvisable laughter. "Yes, that is rather true. What happened there, anyway?"

God avoided his enquiring look. "Um. I was having a bad millennia."

"Right. So what you really mean is that I had done something to irritate you and you took it out on the poor humans."

God flushed. "No comment."

"Maybe you need some more commandments," Lucifer stated thoughtfully.

"Like what?"

"How about, 'thou shalt not cause thine friends to Fall for love'?"

God squawked and struck Lucifer with a miniature bolt of lightning. "You always have to bring that up, don't you?"

Lucifer rubbed his shoulder reproachfully. "Or what about, 'Thou Shalt Not Smite Thine Friends'?"

There was a stony silence. Lucifer smirked. "Or alternatively, if that's too much to ask, you could always go for 'Thou Shalt Not Smite Thine Friends With Little Or No Provocation'."

"Go away. I'm not talking to you."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Geez, what'd I do? If you're going to be like that, then what's the point of hanging around? You're so moody sometimes, honestly."

God slid his hand through his hair. He had that absent, far-away, melancholy look on his face that always spelled trouble and meant that his mind was off with the faeries. "What's the point in anything?"

Lucifer winced. This had all the markings of a really big tantrum in the works.

God stood up abruptly and looked back at Lucifer.

"I'm going to talk to Gaia. I'll see you later."

As God walked away, Lucifer thumped his palm into his forehead. God was in a mood again, and storm clouds were clearly brewing. Oh dear. This was not good. Not good at all.

(1) Human curses were an easy habit to pick up and a hard one to break. Personally, Jesus found it quite funny.

~*~*~*~

God stormed down the marble corridor to his sister's most common dwelling. They needed to sort out a few things, and as far as he was concerned, there was no time like the present.

"Gaia!" God yelled, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Gaia looked up then, soft waves of earthy brown hair falling around her delicate heart-shaped face. She was incredibly beautiful, but as a Goddess, she didn't find this to be particularly useful or important. Her eyes were the colour of the sea, a cloudy blue-green, and right now they were surveying God calmly. "Yes, little brother?"

God opened and shut his mouth several times, bearing a remarkable resemblance to a goldfish. He should have expected this, having known Gaia for however many millions of years, but her implacable calm never failed to unnerve him. His older sister studied him with some concern and rose to her feet. "Yizriel?"

"Gaia!" God wailed, throwing himself into her arms. Gaia sighed.

"Oh, dear. What in the name of Heaven is the matter, sweetheart?"

God burrowed his face into Gaia's neck, muffled sobs distorting his words. Gaia furrowed her brow in slight confusion. "Brother, I can't hear you. What's wrong?"

God attempted to steady himself, crimson eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Why, Gaia?"

Gaia tilted her head to the side. "Why what, Yizriel?"

God rubbed at his eyes roughly, a bitter expression gracing his features. "Why did we do it? Why did we create them?"

Gaia closed her eyes slowly. "The humans."

"Yes."

Gaia opened her eyes again. "I don't know why. We just did. We did for the same reason we have ever created anything- for the pure joy of giving life. We did it for the same reason that a mother has children. We did it out of love, and out of selfishness. That's all I can tell you."

God ran his fingers through his hair wearily. "We had no right. We shouldn't have done it."

"Why not? Don't they deserve a chance to live too?" Gaia challenged him.

God looked away, pain written across his face. His voice was little more than a whisper. "Because there is evil. Because there is pain. Because… because innocent children are made to suffer."

Gaia studied him sadly. "And yet, through all this evil, there is kindness. With the pain comes joy. And with the suffering is love. Would you deny them this?"

God's eyes blazed. "I don't care! What use is love? What use is anything? How can we have created a world where those who have done no wrong are punished?"

"If those who do wrong are punished, where is free will? Would you have their actions controlled, their thoughts policed? They would be little more than automatons; mindless machines who can neither think nor feel. Isn't that worse than pain? Worse than death?"

"I… of course I wouldn't. I feel the same, I would never… but why can't you understand? That's the point! We have created this problem, and now there is no way to reverse it! Love doesn't matter, nothing matters! We should never have made the Earth at all, don't you see? Nothing is worth this. Nothing is worth the price of the suffering of a single child!" God had worked himself up into a wild fury, and was shrieking at the top of his voice. Gaia reached towards him hesitantly.

"Yizriel-"

"Leave it," he responded scathingly. "I don't want to talk about it." With that, he stalked out of the room and slammed the door yet again on his way out. Gaia cringed. That certainly could have gone much better than it did. Not even she knew what her younger brother would do now.

~*~*~*~

Uriel, angel of lightning, fire and God's wrath(2) and egotist extraordinaire, was sprawled out in a most inelegant fashion, one arm flung over his eyes and the other lying half off the bed. The sheets were twisted around his ankles and a discarded blanket rested on top of a miscellaneous lump on the floor where it had fallen the night before. It had been hot last night, and Uriel had kicked his bedclothes every which way in his sleep.

The lump on the floor rolled over, and made a noise. The lump was actually Cassiel, the angel of rain, tears and sorrow and coincidentally the only being capable of keeping his best friend Uriel under control. While he usually slept in his own bed in another room, his normal bed had broken in strange circumstances(3) and he had been relegated to the floor for the night.

Cassiel decided that it was probably time to get up, so half-heartedly shoved his blankets off and sat up. Yawning, he stretched and blinked his bleary grey eyes. His normally immaculate pale purple-blue plait was an absolute mess, and he reflected that he needed a brush, and fast. Hopefully before Uriel woke up and had the opportunity to laugh at his pain. Then again, Uriel's hair upon first waking was pretty terrible too, so if it came to that, there was always hope of retaliation.

Cassiel stumbled to his feet and staggered into the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Bed hair was truly a work of evil(4). Shaking his head ruefully, he yanked the thick tie out of the tangled mass. Picking up his brush, he tugged it through the knots and winced as it got caught in a particularly bad snarl.

Plaiting his hair back again, Cassiel splashed cold water from the tap in his face in an effort to wake up. His nightshirt was unfortunately damp, but it was an inevitable result. Scrubbing himself with one of the big fluffy towels, Cassiel decided he was prepared to face the morning.

Not so for Uriel. In Uriel's opinion, morning was an unholy beast that should not be seen unless no other option presented itself, in which case death was infinitely preferable. He often made this point of view known, very loudly and clearly. Mornings, he felt, were for the weak. Or the clinically insane.

So, as one might have expected, Uriel did not take at all kindly to being awoken unnecessarily. A semi-nocturnal angel by nature, he would be perfectly satisfied to live as a creature of the hours of darkness, going about his business at the dead of night and sleeping through the day. Cassiel, best friend and roommate, felt that this was unhealthy and never had any intention of letting Uriel getting away with it. Besides, it was almost one o'clock already, and if Cassiel had to suffer, so did Uriel. Thus, the daily ritual began.

Cassiel poked Uriel in the side, showing no mercy. With a groan, Uriel rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow and curling his limbs inwards. Cassiel refused to relent, now shaking Uriel unfeelingly. The pillow stifled Uriel's words, but they sounded suspiciously akin to, "Piss off. Sleeping."

Cassiel decided to resort to underhand tactics, as he almost always did. Time to get the wet washcloth. Uriel, subconsciously aware of that which was soon to come, grabbed his blankets from the floor and pulled them over his head.

Having returned from the bathroom once more, cloth dripping freezing water in tow, Cassiel wasn't taking any prisoners. He meant business. With an evil glint in his eyes, he ruthlessly tore the blankets away, heedless to Uriel's whimpers. Cassiel reflected that the sounds of Uriel's high-pitched squeal and the resounding thump as the tortured angel landed on the floor were very satisfying music to his ears. Shuddering at the remnants of the icy cold trickle down his back, Uriel treated Cassiel to the ultimate glare of death.

"You seriously suck."

Cassiel shrugged. It was an ongoing joke between them; Uriel always said it, and never meant it. "You say that all the time. Anyway, your hair is everywhere." This last part was said with an insufferably smug inflection, Cassiel being perfectly aware that his hair was now immaculate.

Uriel poked his tongue out at Cassiel and worriedly patted at his head. Uriel's midnight blue hair was indeed sticking out in some very weird directions, and his rather considerable pride was wounded by this indignity. Sniffing self-righteously, he hauled himself upright and stalked in the direction of the much-frequented bathroom.

"I will be back!" Uriel called over his shoulder ominously.

Cassiel grinned. "Is that a threat, or a promise?"

Uriel leaned back around the doorframe and appeared to consider this. Finally he shrugged. "Who knows, who cares? Just one of life's mysteries. You can choose. Meanwhile, I have serious business to attend to. Ta ta!" With that, his head once more disappeared around the corner and he locked the bathroom door behind him. Cassiel rolled his eyes, fully aware that this process would probably go on for another hour. In the meantime, Cassiel occupied himself by staring blankly at the wall. Everything was exactly the same as every other morning except for the waking up on the ground part, but something just didn't seem right. He moved to the window by some inner instinct, pulling aside the heavy curtains. What he saw made him stop abruptly, gasping for breath and mind reeling. Unknowingly, his wings had burst open, shedding snowy white feathers to the carpet.

When his scattered wits finally regathered, Cassiel whirled around to face away from the glass, catching at the windowsill for balance. He called out blindly, filled with irrational panic. "Uri! Uri, come quick!"

Unnerved by the hysterical note in his normally quiet best friend, Uriel raced out of the bathroom, coal black eyes flashing with concern. "Cass? Cass, what in the name of Heaven is wrong?"

Cassiel slid down the wall, burying his head in his hands. "Look out the window." He murmured faintly.

Perplexed, Uriel walked over to the window and opened the curtains, falling back in shock when he realised what had given Cassiel such a fright. "Holy FUCK!"

Cassiel smiled weakly. "While a bit explicit, my sentiments exactly." His wings had curled themselves around him, creating a ball of shivering warmth.

Uriel shook his head dazedly. It was impossible to take in. Outside, it was storming so badly that it was practically a hurricane. The rain was falling hard and fast in what was almost a solid stream of water, there were gale-force winds, and a brief flicker of lightning set the whole sky ablaze. Seconds later, the thunder was so loud it rattled the windowpanes.

While this may have not seemed such a great calamity to most beyond the usual concerns of dangerous weather, this storm was more than it appeared. Any and all rain in heaven or on earth was under the jurisdiction of Cassiel, and likewise with lightning and Uriel. No storm should take place without not just their knowledge but also their direct intervention, let alone one of this magnitude. Something, somewhere, had gone completely and utterly amiss.

Expression hardening into a look of determination, Uriel grabbed Cassiel's wrist and pulled him to his feet. Dragging his friend towards the front door, Uriel threw Cassiel back a thick jacket. Cassiel's wings had by now been dispelled.

"You might want that, it's probably cold out there."

Hurriedly yanking the jacket on over his nightshirt, Cassiel blinked warily. "Where are we going, Uri? It's pouring, and neither of us a properly dressed yet."

Uriel shrugged impatiently, unusually serious. "We're finding out what the hell is going on. Some things are more important than appearance."

Cassiel stared. "Alright, who are you and what did you do with Uriel? I take it that personal wellbeing is among the things that are currently unimportant?"

Uriel snorted. "Don't be stupid. Now come on, let's go. We're going to get to the bottom of this, and preferably sometime today."

"Fine, but don't blame me if you get pneumonia. Don't expect me to nurse you back to health, either, for that matter," Cassiel muttered under his breath.

"Cass? You suck. Now move it!"

About to head out into the bucketing rain, Cassiel reflected that some things never changed, and at least aliens hadn't abducted Uriel after all.

(2) Meaning that he was technically the one who got to do all the smiting. God had a tendency to take such things into his own hands when personally offended, however. Such as anything involving Lucifer.

(3) Read: Uriel Waz Ere. Or more precisely, was bouncing on the furniture like a maniac.

(4) Whenever people tried to blame Lucifer, he strenuously objected to the assumption that he had anything to do with it. No one ever seemed to remember that he wasn't actually EVIL.

~*~*~*~

Within a second of leaving shelter, Uriel and Cassiel were completely drenched. Not merely wet; wet is what you get when you have a shower. We're talking real soaked to the bone sort of thing, such as what might be expected if you jump into a swimming pool fully clothed. Cassiel still had no idea where they were going or what was happening, but considering Uriel didn't either, that was no big surprise.

Uriel had given up attempting to flick the sodden bangs from his eyes, as the water pressure was too high and made the action near impossible. His hair and clothing were plastered to his skin, and he and Cassiel both bore an astonishing likeness to drowned rats. Possibly worst of all was the fact that wet clothes chafe, and that not only did they splash while walking, but also squelched. The really awful part probably wouldn't come until they were out of the rain, as anyone who has been dressed in wet clothing would probably be aware. Having lived for however many millions of years, they knew all to well the extreme and inevitable discomfort that loomed before them.

Progress was slow, as the winds were pushing them back and their saturated clothing was weighing them down. Needless to say, Cassiel and Uriel were freezing, and the heavy beat of the water stung their eyes and skin. They weren't really getting very far, and they had absolutely no idea what they were trying to achieve.

After about seventy minutes of fruitless searching and unpleasant conditions, even Uriel conceded that it was in fact time to give it a rest. The streets were deserted, because most angels, while being curious, were not that curious. Most of Uriel and Cassiel's close friends lived in either the lower city or the main palace, a beautiful 18th century style communal mansion which was almost like an extremely high-class hotel, but not quite. As Uriel and Cassiel's suburban apartment was in the upper city, it was a long walk in such harsh weather to shelter and company.

Cassiel closed his eyes and turned his face up to the heavy torrent of water. It hurt slightly, but it was almost refreshing after having his hair stuck to him so long. It would be worse when they got into the warmth. Humidity could be very sticky and disagreeable.

Lowering his head again, Cassiel shook it hard to get his plait out of the way. Presumably, he was sending water everywhere, but that scarcely made a difference under the circumstances. Opening his eyes, he regarded Uriel solemnly. "Uri, we need to go somewhere. We can't just stay here indefinitely."

Uriel laughed hysterically. "Why not? Let's just stay here and catch pneumonia, it's hardly going to kill us."

Cassiel rubbed his bare shoulder where the nightshirt had slipped. "Well, for one thing, I'm absolutely freezing. Plus, it's impossible to breathe out here."

Uriel studied him. "You seem to be breathing fine to me," he noted observantly.

Cassiel rolled his eyes. "You may not have realised, but breathing and inhaling water are completely different activities."

Uriel stuck his tongue out and stopped to drink some rainwater. "Hah hah, you're so funny. But seriously, what can we do?"

Cassiel pushed his fringe out of his eyes thoughtfully. "We've been wandering in the direction of the palace, right? Why don't we stay there?"

"You have got to be kidding me," Uriel complained. "The palace is ages away!"

Cassiel stared at him. "Uri? It takes an hour's flight to get to the palace from our place, and we're closer to it than to home. Unless you'd rather stay here?"

Uriel scowled. "Alright, alright, point made already. We'll go to the palace- maybe we can crash with Gabe and Metatron. I don't particularly fancy getting sick, so we can't stay here. Are you happy?"

"I hate to say it, but I told you so," Cassiel stated mildly.

"Like hell you didn't enjoy it," Uriel grumbled.

Cassiel grinned. "True. You see right through me. I don't know why we couldn't just stay at home, though. I mean, we had no idea what we were doing and now look where we are."

"Cass? Put a sock in it. You've had your chance to gloat, now are we going or not?"

Cassiel agreed that they should probably move it, so they set off yet again. After about another forty minutes of walking, Uriel was beginning to lag behind. While the angel hadn't said anything, Cassiel knew his friend was tired. They had to stop for a rest, or Uriel would probably collapse from sheer exhaustion. Keeping these thoughts in mind, Cassiel pulled to a sudden halt. Uriel, by now staring mindlessly ahead without seeing anything, walked into him. His feet felt like they had been crushed repeatedly, broken apart and put back together incorrectly, and his mind had retreated after the first three kilometres, search included. Until then, Uriel had quietly amused himself with his thoughts, but for the past kilometre he had been reduced to what was practically a mobile vegetable state. The thought that there was another kilometre to go was enough to make him want to burst into tears, but he didn't have the energy.

When he crashed into Cassiel, though, Uriel had been temporarily roused from his oblivion. Sinking gratefully to the ground now that there was no movement needed, Uriel massaged his very sore feet. "Why did we stop?"

Cassiel shrugged matter-of-factly. "You were about to keel over and die."

Uriel smiled weakly. "Thanks. Ugh," he groaned, flopping down onto the ground.

"Come on, don't lie on the paving. You'll get even colder, which you can't afford. After all that exertion, you're losing body heat as it is."

"Can't be bothered. Can't move," Uriel sighed. "Too tired."

Cassiel knelt down and heaved Uriel bodily into his arms. Uriel was limp, like a gigantic rag doll.

"What're you doing?" Uriel mumbled, words slurred from fatigue.

"Sharing warmth," Cassiel stated bluntly. "I don't want you getting hypothermia."

Uriel shivered, teeth chattering. "N-no, w-we w-wouldn't w-want t-that, w-would w-we?" He yawned, eyelids starting to slide shut involuntarily.

Cassiel slapped him hard across the face. Uriel jerked upright. "Ow, C-cass, what was t-that for?" he yelped, rubbing his cheek. Cassiel pulled him closer. "You can't go to sleep, Uri. If you go to sleep, you might not wake up."

Uriel coughed faintly. "D-don't b-be stupid, C-cass. Angels c-can't d-die."

"Maybe so, but they can fall into comas. Just stay awake, Uriel. For me, at least."

Uriel's eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to keep his eyes open. "Fine."

Cassiel knew that there was no way he could support Uriel's weight normally while walking, but they couldn't stop much longer. Uriel badly needed care, but he was in no condition to walk the rest of the way to the palace.

Cassiel realised this left only one option. He'd have to use his power to lend him strength so that he could carry Uriel the rest of the way. It would drain him to a dangerous point, but there was no alternative. It was just too bad the conditions were impossible for flying.

~*~*~*~

Metatron grabbed the controller from the floor where it had last been thrown, an evil glint in his cornflower blue eyes.

"All right, Gabriel. Now is when I seriously kick your arse."

Gabriel snorted. "So you say. I personally can't see it happening in the near future."

Metatron crossed his arms calmly. "Fine. Then I challenge you to a game of Puyo Puyo(5)! Hah!"

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "Oh, you are so going down."

Metatron clicked the playstation on and smugly curled up on the couch. "We'll soon see. Just remember that talk is cheap and actions speak louder than words, Gabe."

Gabriel grinned. "Exactly. Which is why I'm going to whip you, and you know it."

"You wish. I am the LORD of Puyo Puyo!" Metatron cackled madly.

Gabriel edged away with a mock-disturbed expression on his face. "Right. Sure thing, Met. Have I told you how weird you are lately?"

Metatron shrugged. "Meh. All the time. What're you stalling for, wuss? Let's get this show on the road!"

Gabriel rolled his eyes and pressed the 'start' button. "Sure thing. Prepare for a humiliating defeat."

Metatron did not deign to dignify this with an answer, instead opting to stick his tongue out in an immature fashion. The game was soon underway, little coloured bubbles on the screen falling hard and fast. Both being seasoned game players, Metatron and Gabriel were tied, still going strong.

At least, they were until the knock on the door.

Gabriel paused the game, staring at the door. "What the hell?"

Metatron dropped his controller. "Who the hell, you mean."

Gabriel waved his hand vaguely. "Yeah, whatever. Why would anyone be coming over at this hour?"

Metatron jumped up with a grin so happy it was scary. "Let's go see! Come on come on come on!"

"Alright, alright, calm down! Last time I let you near the coffee," Gabriel laughed as Metatron bounded towards the door.

Metatron stopped, his eyes wide and guileless. "Coffee? What coffee?"

Gabriel brushed back the thick, wavy strands of black hair that had escaped his ponytail. "Well, you're definitely on something, that's for sure."

Metatron blinked. "Hey, hey, aren't I usually hyper? But you're right, I ate chocolate. And drank some soft drink. Oh, and don't forget the ice-cream."

Gabriel groaned. "Oh no, you have got to be joking. You're overexcited enough as it is! Besides, I don't know how you manage to stay so skinny. You eat so much junk."

Metatron shrugged. "High metabolism? I don't know. And I prefer slim, thank you very much." He blinked, and remembered his original objective. "Ooh, door!"

When the next knock came, Metatron yelled loudly, "I'm coming already! Don't break the door down!"

Gabriel tossed his controller onto the couch cushions and stood up, stretching. "Whoever it is, don't freak them out too badly, Met," he called.

Metatron sniffed indignantly. "Hey! I'm not that bad! Screw you, anyway."

"I only wish," Gabriel muttered.

Metatron's brow creased. "Did you say something?"

Gabriel squeaked. "Never mind! Stop leaving whoever it is to rot on the doorstep and let them in!"

Metatron decided to let it go, figuring that whatever it was it was probably insulting and therefore not worth worrying about. In any case, he reasoned, he could always get Gabriel back later with a sound thrashing in Puyo Puyo. Throwing the door open, he tripped over in shock.

"Raphael? What's up?"

Raphael presently had a face like thunderclouds, appropriately enough. "There is a very massive problem going on."

Metatron bit his lip. "Man, just what we need right now. God damn it!" He waited almost guiltily for God to start grouching about the use of his name in cursing(6), but there was blissful silence, at least in his mind. Gabriel made his usual comment about Metatron being blasphemous, and Metatron made his usual reply:

"Mmm. Sacrilicious."

Raphael scratched his head, long chestnut-coloured spikes falling naturally into his eyes over the cloth tied across his forehead. "Metatron, I always ask you to explain that and you never do."

Metatron just laughed, skipping off to fall onto the couch with his straight blonde shoulder-length hair flying around him. Gabriel made a face.

"Don't ask. Just trust me when I say you should never let Met watch the Simpsons(7)."

Raphael's dark green eyes blinked dazedly. "Alright. I'll take your word on that one." Striding into the living room, he stared at the TV. "Dude, I didn't know it was possible for two people to die at the same time!"

Metatron and Gabriel whipped around to face the television. "What? NO!" Their simultaneous howls of horror and anguish probably echoed throughout the whole palace, Raphael reflected. Metatron began to sob melodramatically.

"And I was going to win!" Metatron wailed, making the word 'win' last for at least 5 syllables.

Gabriel's chocolate brown eyes were slightly mutinous as he considered kicking his stupid controller. "No, you weren't. You're deluding yourself."

Metatron drew himself up to his not very considerable height, eyes blazing. Before he could open his mouth to stage a protest, though, Raphael interrupted.

"Hey, guys? While this debate might be absolutely hilarious and fascinating some other time, and believe me, I love laughing at your stupidity," Raphael ignored the glares being redirected at him, "I meant it. There's something going wrong."

Gabriel winced. "Oh, no. Please, please tell me it's not the Apocalypse."

Metatron thumped him upside the head affectionately. "You slacker."

"I am not a slacker! I'm an arch angel, I do heaps more things than the Apocalypse!" Gabriel protested.

Metatron arched an eyebrow. "Yeah, such as?"

"Such as…" Gabriel hesitated. It was a bit hard to articulate, because other than being the angel of the apocalypse, he did so many different things. The titles just sort of began heaping up after awhile. "Such as stuff."

Metatron dissolved into helpless giggles on the floor. Gabriel shook his head amusedly. "Note to self: Never let Metatron have sugar ever."

Raphael stepped over the giggling heap, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. "I thought that Metatron was always like that."

Gabriel sighed. "Yeah, but he's even worse, which I had once hoped was impossible."

Raphael poked Metatron with the tip of his chunky blue suede shoe. "I think I get your drift."

Gabriel fiddled with the crystal on the leather strap around his neck. "Anyway, we're getting distracted as always. You said there was a problem? Where's Michael, by the way?"

Wearily, Raphael blew the soft silky spikes out of his way. The time for jokes was over. "Yeah. A big problem. Michael's gone to talk to God."

Gabriel could see that this was not shaping up in a favourable way. "Shit. What's happened?"

Raphael shook his head, frustrated. "I don't know. All I can assume is that Cassiel and Uriel had a fight, or they're in trouble, or they lost control!"

Gabriel frowned. "What? What did Uriel do now?"

Raphael spread his hands helplessly. "I don't know, that's the point! It's storming out there so bad the conditions are cyclonic, and there was no warning and no reason!"

Metatron had recovered by now, and was sitting up solemnly, an extremely rare occurrence.

"Poor Cassiel," Metatron murmured. "Something must have happened to him- he's far too mature to do anything like that normally. What if he and Uriel are in trouble?" Nervously, he tugged at his tight white t-shirt.

Gabriel had grabbed his mid-calf-length brown leather boots and was lacing them up over his dark red hose.

"We've got to do something about it. Metatron, get your shoes on."

Metatron grabbed his caramel canvas sneakers and pulled them on hurriedly, tying the laces up as quickly as he could. Despite the gravity of the situation, Raphael found himself curious.

"Hey, Metatron, why are the soles of your sneakers two inches thick?"

Metatron blushed slightly. "Well, I'm short, I'll take all the height I can get even if it's just enough to lord it over Sandy."

"Your poor twin. I don't know how he put up with you for so long," Gabriel commented.

Ignoring this, Metatron continued. "Besides, it's a fashion statement. I like the current fashion on Earth. You ought to talk, anyway; you look like a cross between a punk and a hippie!"

"Hey!" Raphael objected. "What's wrong with that? What do you mean, anyway?"

Metatron tapped his finger on his chin. "I never said there was anything wrong, just a statement of fact. Looks kinda cool, actually. As for what I mean? The top half is definitely punk. Tight black tee, chunky belt, leather jacket, long spiky hair-"

"It's not my fault it goes that way. I wet it, and it dries like this!" Raphael grumbled.

"Well, don't change it even if you figure out how, it suits you. I'm just saying it's very much a punk style, that's all. And the bottom half is straight out of the 1960's. Those shoes, and those tight flare jeans? Very hippy," Metatron concluded.

Gabriel had only just finished tightening the belts on his boots. "Very educational, Met. I'm sure we all appreciate your fashion critique. Are you quite done?"

Metatron considered this. "Yeah, I guess."

"Oh well," Raphael stated in a mildly resigned tone. "Hippies and punks are fine. I like 60's rock and 90's metal, so I guess it's all good."

Gabriel had to laugh at that. His friends were so strange sometimes. The conversation had stalled them an extra five minutes, though, so they really had better get moving.

Just when he was about to mention this, something thumped loudly into the door. Metatron tilted his head to the side in confusion.

"Twice in one night? Wow, we're really popular, huh, Gabe? All those concerned neighbours. And it's not even the stereo being up too loud this time!" Metatron joked weakly, moving over to open the door again.

All three of them were wondering who it was, but when Metatron opened the door for the second time that evening, they really were not expecting what they found.

(5) Puyo Puyo is the creation of Compile. There are many Puyo games, and all of them are very entertaining. Puyo Puyo probably spans the most systems of any console game.

(6) God always noticed when Metatron was talking about Him. It was an adverse effect of being the Voice of God, but Metatron didn't really mind. It was good for getting a rise out of God, really.

(7) "Mmm. Sacrilicious." - original quote by Homer Simpson.

~*~*~*~

Cassiel slumped onto the door, wincing when his shoulder hit the wood too hard. A few more seconds and he'd drop Uriel, he knew it. He'd probably collapse on top of the other angel, come to think of it. It had taken an unhealthy level of power to get this far, and he was feeling hollow and frail.

Cassiel's breath was laboured, and he was struggling to keep his grip on Uriel. All his weight was supported on the door, so when it opened, he went crashing to the floor. All he saw was the concerned and bewildered expression on Metatron's face before he blacked out.

~*~*~*~

Gabriel jumped to his feet at Metatron's hysterical yelp.

"Met, who is it? What's wrong?"

Metatron was all but hyperventilating.

"Cassiel… Cassiel and Uriel… Uriel is out cold; Cassiel just passed out-" Metatron babbled faintly, looking for all the world like he was about to do the same thing as Cassiel.

Somewhat worried(8), Gabriel raced over. Things were shaping up to be a semi-catastrophic, and he was definitely scared for Cassiel and Uriel, but it would only exacerbate the problem if Metatron were to fall unconscious too. Metatron had no ability to deal with any serious level of stress, and was susceptible to panic attacks. Two prone bodies were almost certainly preferable to three, at least in these circumstances.

In crises such as this, Metatron's heart was in the right place. He'd tried to help, but he often just made things worse. Right now, he was demonstrating this by running around like a chicken with its head cut off, throwing towels at people and fanning them uselessly in a vaguely annoying manner.

With these thoughts in mind, Gabriel led Metatron over to the couch and instructed him to lie down, giving him a glass of water. Metatron protested most heartily at this, not wanting to sit aside and do nothing while his friends needed help. Gabriel finally persuaded him he would be most helpful making dinner, as Cassiel and Uriel would be probably need something to eat when they woke up.

"Are you sure?" Metatron asked suspiciously, already moving towards the kitchen.

"It will help more than what you are doing now," Gabriel assured him.

"Oh. Ok," Metatron replied, disappearing into the kitchen.

Aiming a look of pleading at Raphael, Gabriel motioned towards the comatose angels next to the door.

Raphael cringed slightly, but made his way over. "Yeah, I know, I'll do what I can."

Metatron poked his head out of the kitchen. "Thanks, Raph. I'm sure you can do something, you are the angel of healing(9)."

Raphael waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. Don't thank me yet, that's all I'm saying." Kneeling down, he put a hand to Uriel's forehead and yanked it back hurriedly. "Yeowch! His temperature is so high I'm surprised he hasn't burst into flames! This could be serious."

Gabriel sighed. "I hope he's alright. What about Cassiel?"

Raphael shrugged and shook Cassiel slightly. Cassiel moaned softly, and mercifully began to stir. Raphael fervently thanked God(10). It would have been impossible to deal with two patients as sick as Uriel.

(8) More like on the verge of panic, really, but Gabriel didn't want to admit it.

(9) Not to mention science and knowledge, but Metatron didn't feel that to be particularly relevant under the current circumstances.

(10) Even though God technically had nothing to do with it. Deities are a hard habit to break, even when you've known them personally your entire life. Hey, humans are contagious.

~*~*~*~

When Cassiel began to wake, the first thing he saw was Raphael. His vision was blurry at first, but when the other angel clicked into focus, Cassiel blinked in surprise.

"Raphael?"

Raphael smirked; not his usual bite-me grin, the expression was rather placid for him.

"Don't strain yourself. You're too weak, so take it easy. You're in way better shape than Uriel, though, I have to tell you."

Cassiel tried to sit up and was pushed gently but firmly back onto the couch he now realised he was lying on.

"Uriel? Is he okay? Where is he?" Cassiel questioned rapidly.

Raphael sighed. "I won't lie to you, Cass. He's in a pretty bad shape. But you know, he's an archangel, so I'm sure he'll be fine. He's in Metatron's bed right now."

Cassiel was vaguely aware that he had a massive headache, but brushed it aside for the time being. He could suffer later. "Metatron?"

"Yeah, you might have forgotten. We're at the Palace, in Met and Gabe's quarters. Uri is in Metatron's room, because nobody in their right mind would enter Gabriel's lair of gloom and incense willingly."

Cassiel looked a bit taken aback. "Incense?"

Raphael made a wry face. "Tell me about it. All pagan candles and incense and other unhealthy things. Gabriel keeps telling Metatron he's going to Fall for blasphemy, but he ought to talk. Anyway, it's in total darkness and is completely messy. I wouldn't put an invalid in there, that's for sure."

"Hey! My room is cool!" Gabriel objected.

"Sure thing. I would have expected that sort of thing more from Metatron, but his room is really clean and light and airy." Raphael shrugged. "Weird, huh?"

Cassiel laughed. "Yeah, I know. He's so hyper and scatter-brained; you'd expect him to be untidy. What is he doing, by the way?"

"Making chicken soup, last I checked. Gabriel wanted to prevent him panicking, so sent him to go cook things," Raphael answered lightly.

Metatron came out of the kitchen carrying a tray with bowls of soup on it. "You're talking about me, aren't you? I can tell by the guilty looks on your- Oh! Cassiel, you're awake!"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, they were making rude comments about me too."

Metatron smiled sweetly. "I'm sure you deserved it, Gabriel. Now, who wants chicken soup? Meant to be great for colds."

Cassiel gratefully accepted one of the bowls and started eating. Gabriel and Raphael took Metatron up on the offer too, as the Voice of God was one of the best cooks all of Heaven over. It was strange, as Metatron usually didn't have that much patience, but he really did have a talent and a passion for the culinary arts.

After a few seconds, Cassiel carefully put his spoon down and placed the half-full bowl on the coffee table.

"You're probably curious about what happened."

This one sentence stopped everyone else in the room completely. In silence, they waited for Cassiel to continue. Cassiel cleared his throat nervously.

"To be honest, I'm not exactly sure that I know. Just trust me when I say that this storm has nothing to do with Uri or I…"

~*~*~*~

It hadn't taken Michael that long to make his way over to God's living quarters. When he got there, the first thing he noticed was that the door was locked. There was that indescribably awful sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that things were about to get worse, but he put it off for the moment. He may have been the serious, mature one, but even he could delude himself with the best.(11)

So it was that he managed to convince himself that a locked door didn't mean anything, especially not anything unpleasant, and that God must obviously be elsewhere. Maybe with Lucifer.

After what felt like an excessively long period of time roaming the extensive hallways aimlessly, Michael had to concede that things weren't looking good. God was probably locked in his room, chucking a tantrum, and if that was so, then there was very little they could do to rectify the situation. They would just have to hold out until God recovered, and he had been known to sulk for whole millennia at a time.

Michael paused at this thought and blinked warily, waiting for the fury of God to come down on his poor abused mind. For once, he was thankfully spared, but hastily adjusted the thought anyway. Brooding, not sulking. God didn't do sulking.

The only thing left was to find Lucifer, but Michael really did not retain all that much hope for that course of action. Still, it was better than nothing (which was the alternative), so Michael went searching for God's archrival regardless. It wasn't like he had anything better to do, and Lucifer might know something they didn't.

So reasoning, Michael went off on a Lucifer-hunt. Hopefully, it wouldn't take too long.

(11) He had, after all, had a hell of a lot of time to practice in.

~*~*~*~

After searching all over the oversized palace, Michael realised that there was a strong possibility that Lucifer was, indeed, not in the palace at all and maybe not even in Heaven(12), when it came to that. He resisted the incredibly attractive urge to give up and destroy something in an expression of frustration, and instead willed himself to revert back to his usual calm self. Breathe in, breathe out. Much better. Now that he was thinking more clearly, he concluded that a much more civilised solution would be to empty his mind and attempt to sense Lucifer. Because Lucifer was older and more powerful than him as well as having Fallen, it didn't always work, which was why he hadn't thought of trying it in the first place. Still, it was worth a try.

As he closed his eyes and began to concentrate, Michael felt the awareness of his surroundings flood his senses. It was one of the powers which was available to all angels, Fallen or otherwise. Many of the more powerful immortals also had title-specific abilities, though. For example, as the angel of justice and truth, Michael could will a sword to materialise in his hand at his beck and call. He could also tell when someone was lying without even trying, which sometimes made it difficult to be his friend, but the others had just had to learn to deal with it. Especially poor Raphael- it is hard to understand just how weird it can be to have a best friend who always knows when you aren't telling the whole and unconditional truth. For his part, Raphael could save people from the brink of death, as well as being a brilliant scientist and having a mind that was, against all the odds, highly logical. It was an individual thing.

While the initial touch of the world around was rather overwhelming, it only took a moment for Michael to adjust. He had, after all, had however many millions of years to get used to this particular skill. Focusing his thoughts, Michael began to block everything out in his search for Lucifer. Surprisingly enough, he located the arch-nemesis of God almost at once. Lucifer was, as previously ascertained, outside the palace gates, and was in fact hanging, apparently aimlessly, in the Lower City. Michael raised his eyebrows. Strange- he seemed to be almost inviting telepathic contact.

'Lucifer?' A polite enquiry, spoken not aloud but through the mind. It was good etiquette to warn someone before bombarding their private thoughts with your own.

'Michael, is that you?' Asked, not demanded- Lucifer seemed to have been expecting something like this.

'Yes.'

There was a mental grin. 'Hey, Mikey-boy!'

Michael gave a long-suffering sigh. 'Please, please don't call me that.'

'Hey, blame Raphael. He came up with it in the first place, and now it's started invading the speech of us all. He's been calling you that for what, how long now? Since before the whole Rebellion jazz, that's for sure, and TRUST me, that is one hell of a long time. I'm in a position to know. So, tell me again, why do you let him get away with it?'

Michael considered this. 'I honestly don't know. But I didn't contact you to converse about the strange and occasionally terrible nicknames Raphael can come up with for his close friends. There has been… a problem.'

Lucifer winced. 'Um, yeah. I kind of know.'

'I take it you noticed the storm, then?'

Lucifer hesitated. 'Er… Not exactly. Now that I think about it, not at all, really. But it doesn't amaze me in the least.'

'You know what's going on?' Michael enquired. There was a long silence. There was the distinct feeling of one looking around surreptitiously and whistling loudly in what they hope is an inconspicuous and unsuspicious nature.

Michael shook his head ruefully. 'Lucifer, I sense guilt. There's something you're not telling me, isn't there? I've known you since before the beginning of time. Even if I weren't angel of truth, I would know.'

Lucifer's aura grew even guiltier-feeling. 'Well, I guess. You could say that. Actually, that pretty much sums it up in a nutshell.'

'Sums what up?'

'What I know. Or, more to the point, what's my fault.'

Michael sighed. 'The guilt makes more sense, now. Lucifer, what did you do, and what do you know about what's going on that we don't?'

'Well, first of all, the storm is God's fault.'

There was another long pause, this one a stunned hush on Michael's side. 'Pardon?'

'You heard. God is having a- um. Temper tantrum. Sort of. But it's a bit more serious than that.'

'Oh, dear. Not again, it's been so long since the last time that we'd hoped that maybe he wouldn't do that sort of thing anymore.'

'Yeah, tell me about it. If you ask me, flooding a whole planet is just going a bit too far. Seriously.'

'Yes. And I suppose that is where the "this being your fault" thing comes into it.' Michael groaned. 'I might have known that somehow, in some way, this would come down to the two of you.'

'Hey!' Lucifer protested. 'I resent that! Okay, so maybe it's true-'

'It undoubtedly is.'

'But there's no need to make us sound like naughty preschoolers!'

'Isn't that what you are?'

'No! Not exactly, anyway. Not really. Only slightly. Maybe just a bit- oi, hold on! Stop that. We're thousands of years old, of course we aren't.'

'There are so many times that you could have fooled me.'

'That's because you're gullible.'

'I know you don't believe that, Lucifer.'

Lucifer scowled. 'Quit that, it's annoying. I'm never going to get used to that particular talent of yours, I swear. Now, do you want to know what I had to do with it or not?'

Michael smiled calmly. 'That would be good, yes.'

'God and I were talking, right, as usual. But he was in a bit of a mood, and you know how he can get. Anyway, he was all in a tiff about humans. Again. For the fifty-fifth thousandth time or so. No particular grievance or anything, they've just been basically ignoring him and disregarding the commandments and so on. As per usual. So I don't know what got him so upset, but- he really meant it. He was depressed that the world he and his sister created contains the suffering of innocents, and he regrets ever creating it. He stormed off, went to talk to Gaia I think. This is serious, Michael. It's not just God being childish and petty like normal, he really means it. And I don't think he's causing floods on purpose. I think he's actually unhappy, this time.'

Michael took a slight step backwards at the mental onslaught. 'I don't think I can quite process all that. This is not good at all. It explains why God's door was locked, too.'

'It's locked? Shit! It's worse than I thought it was. I'll be right there, got it?'

'Are you sure you'll be able to make it through the storm?' Michael's thoughts were tinged with concern.

Lucifer sounded vaguely embarrassed. 'Yeah, I'll be fine. I can teleport, remember? One of the pluses to being God's ultimate opposite. Or whatever.'

Michael contemplated this. 'Ah. Uriel and Raphael must have expressed their envy of you in most elaborate manners.'

Lucifer shuddered. 'Uh huh. I'm the one who has to put up with the constant bitching, here. Anyway, like I said, I'll be there in a bit. Ciao.'

Slightly bewildered by the unexpected information, Michael bid Lucifer farewell and cut the link. This was even more catastrophic than any of them had originally suspected.

(12) Although this was highly unlikely. It was quite sad, all things considered, but Lucifer spent a very large proportion of his time loafing around in Heaven hanging around with his old angel friends. There really was a very open gate when it came to Hell and Heaven- the only real difference between them was the décor. So rather a lot of Fallen angels had taken to frequenting Heaven in their spare time. It was amusing, but no one really minded. It would be depressing to be separated from one's Fallen friends.*

*God didn't like to admit it, but he was actually very attached to Lucifer and would be the first to complain should the separation be made more permanent.

On to Part 2

New journal! Official! So shiny!

Sun, 28 Nov 2004 11:56:42 GMT

Yes, this is the new home of Heavenly Chaos. And I better update and archive all the past chapters before I give in to my laziness and don't do it for another six months. XD