Novenas: Heaven's Gate

by Erika

Disclaimer: The series Earth Angel's belongs to Anne Rice. I am temporarily borrowing the characters. These stories will differ from the actual NBC pilot; it actually draws heavily on the version that came out toward the end of the comic: Tales of the Body Thief.

Pairing: Earth Angel/Touched By An Angel

Beta: Jose.

Summary: Speak no evil.

Warning: Some readers may be sensitive to the religious discussion that may take place in this series. If you are easily offended please read something else.

Author's Notes: This is also an AU of the series. I found out after I started writing this story that Nicholas Lea was instead going to be playing Maximilian, not David.

Series: Fourth in series, after Cry to Heaven, Revelation 6:8, Rising of the Sun, the Setting of the Moon; following this is A Rumour of Angels.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Too long, O God, hast thou disowned us, and scattered our armies in flight; thy wrath forgo, and bring us back to our own. Heal the wounds of the land thou hast shaken and torn asunder, the land that trembles still. Heavy the burden thou didst lay on us; such a draught thou didst brew for us as made our senses reel. But now thou hast set up a standard to rally thy faithful servants, and to protect them from the archers' onset; now bring aid to the men thou lovest, give our prayer answer, and lift thy right hand to save." (Psalms 59: 1-7 KJV Bible)

Bodies pressed together, the smell of sex permeated the air. The moans and gasps of men and women, here, participating in this orgy, all in many ways vying for the attention of their chosen demi-god, Maxmillian.

'Take me. Take me,' their faces seem say. 'Look how well I perform, my body and soul are yours.'

Maxmillian's hands caressed sweat covered bodies, a touch here and there, more for show than actual interest.  A woman, on the floor snaked up to him, pressing her naked breasts along his knee up to his thigh.  Maxmillian just brushed her off, tonight not interested in the female form.

As he walked by, humans tugged at his leather pants and at his black silk shirt, seeking contact with their master. He walked out of the room and into the empty dining hall. Max looked at the fruit basked on the table, sampling a strawberry, munching on it, feeling the sweetness on his lips, a part of him wondering if David's lips would taste the same.

Foolish thoughts.

"Max," called a figure standing by the doorway, smiling indulgently at him. Antonio, an Archangel newly fallen, tempted by Max to cross the divide that separated Heaven and Hell.

Black, wavy, shoulder length hair. Pouty lips. Olive skin. Deep chocolate brown eyes.A lithe, flexible body. All made to fuck.

"Antonio." The once Archangel gracefully stalked to Maxmillian's side, his hands coming to rest on Max's belt buckle, slowly undressing Lucifer's son.

Max leaned to kiss the smile on Antonio's lips. Innocent. The former Archangel still tasted innocent. Max's hands tugged Antonio's hair slightly back, his lips travelling along the now exposed neck, licking, nipping, leaving small bite marks behind. Hands caressing Antonio's shoulder blades.  Waiting for the wings to appear. Wings that were still white.

"Max..." Antonio gasped when Maxmillian's hands fondled those long, sensitive wings.

"No words," Max warned, wanting to lose himself in the image that played in his mind.

The one in which Antonio was replaced with the body of his brother, David.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Later, alone, Max admitted that as much as he enjoyed corrupting Antonio, bringing him to the side of the Fallen Ones, fucking the Archangel still left him somewhat unsatisfied. He stretched on the bed then, as he sat up, he felt the soreness from the night before. While their recuperative powers surpassed that of Immortals, those abilities were somewhat put to a test when Angels and Fallen Ones inflicted damage on each other.

"Max," David called to him. Brother. Betrayer. Tempter.

David, here, standing by the doorway, looking at Max still sitting on the bed, noticing the rumpled, stained sheets. "So this is where you're hiding."

"Step inside this bedroom and I won't be responsible for my actions, David." Max warned.  Once, long ago, he had enjoyed this batter between them, feeding upon the illicit unspoken attraction, but no more.

"We need to talk," David insisted, still standing by the doorway, unable it seemed to step inside.

"That's all we do, David, is talk. Frankly, if that's all you have to offer, get out."  Max said as he tossed the sheets way from his body, getting off the bed and walking toward David, proud and strong, knowing in many ways he was daring his twin to turn back and run. Instead, as David hungrily watched him approach, his eyes traced the bite marks along Max's collarbone, the dried cum decorating Max's belly.  Noticed his brother's cock, now spent, moving in sequence with his brother's thighs.

David licked his lips. His mouth had gone dry. Unconsciously he took another step forward, unable to keep his hands to his side, needing to touch the naked skin displayed before him.

"Max," he said, seemingly purring when his twin reached him, when those hands he dreamed often about, dreams he would later deny having, touched him, caressing his face, tracing his lower lip until his brother finally reached over to kiss him.

Tasting the sweetness, revelling in the moment, wishing for eternity, not wanting this to ever end: just like so many other dreams he had had before, Max woke up, alone in his bedchamber. He threw the pillow across the room in anger, sitting on the bed, hugging his knees wondering what he could do to make the dream real, to fulfill his ultimate wish of tasting his brother just one time.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

A red Thunderbird convertible, with three occupants, travelled down the nearly deserted streets of New York City.  Dawn was just breaking through the horizon as the car made its way to Manhattan Island.  One of the passengers, a young Angel, pressed her face against the window.  With the barest roll of her 'r's', she asked, excitedly, "Why are we here again, Tess?"

"To save a soul," the older woman responded. "A very important soul."

"They are all important," Monica stated, as though repeating words she had learned in a classroom.

Tess chuckled at her chick. It seemed as though it was only yesterday that she had been given the assignment to supervise this young woman. To help her become the Angel she was destined to be.

"Aye, it's true, but this is a special case. The one we are going to try to save never willingly lost his soul. Some have argued that his soul has stayed intact, hidden, within, uncorrupted from his father's influence."

"I'm surprise we were called. I would have thought...what with things being as they are..." Andrew, sitting at the back of the car, stated rather worriedly, absentmindedly pulling at his beige linen suit.

"Ah, Angel-boy, you know God works in mysterious ways. Everything will work out in the end, you'll see." Tess checked on Andrew through the rear-view window.

"But do you really believe," Andrew swallowed nervously, unable to pronounce Lucifer's name, "*he* will actually let *him* go?"

"There would be war." Tess agreed with Andrew. "But we are already at war," she reminded him.

"What is this that you both speak of?" Monica asked, looking from one to the other.

"You'll find out when we get there. Rest, child. We'll need all our strength and more."

With these cryptic words, the occupants in the car fell silent, each deep in their own private thoughts.  The two older Angels wondered if this would be their last assignment. Normally, Angels had nothing to fear, on Earth that is...and that was where the problem lay: Fallen Ones lived in this city, called this place home and they were the only things that could truly kill an Angel.

The instructions they had been given stated explicitly that, while in the city, their job was to see whether they could gain a valued ally against Hell and its minions. For the first time, Tess felt fear run through her. Fear they would fail. So much was counting on this, on their meeting, that she wondered why they had been chosen when others, stronger than they, could have gone in their stead.

Maybe the reason was to test whether the Heir of Hell would be capable of showing some kind of consideration to their kind, Angels who had once been human. 

She hoped he would.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

"Who are we looking for, Tess?" Monica asked, glancing about the crowded bar in uptown Manhattan.

Tess just frowned, for the first time feeling nervous, wondering if Andrew had been right.  If, somehow, they hadn't been given the wrong assignment. How could they succeed when others before them, with far more experience, had failed?

"Tess?" Monica was concerned, wondering if her mentor was unwell: she'd never seen Tess this fretful.

"You will feel him, sense him, even before he enters the room," Tess explained. "I've been told that his presence feels just like one of the First.  So much that Angels have let down their guard, realizing only when it was too late that he's Lucifer's son. Some amongst us have wondered whether the reason we cannot truly sense the evil within him is that somehow his soul is still tied with that of his twin."

And that was when they felt it...they felt alive and in that one second, it was as though they were experiencing, reliving, every moment of happiness they had once had as humans. It overwhelmed them.

"Tess?" Monica cried out, tears running down her face.

"It's all right, child," Tess whispered, trying to reassure the younger Angel.  By her side, Andrew remained silent, staring intently at the door, at the entrance of the bar, waiting breathlessly for...and there he was, Lucifer's son, who smiled at them, as a cat would to a mouse just before it struck.

"What have we here?"  A husky voice laced with laughter and delight stunned the three Angels.

"Surely, Heaven is not mad enough to have sent you here into the Lion's den." Noticing the Angels' continued shock, Max sighed. "I don't know whether to be insulted or..." and he paused, the air around him changed taking on a more sombre tone.

It was then that they realized that they were now the only occupants in the bar.

"Why are you here? Speak up. Speak up." Green orbs blazed.

"Who are you?" Monica asked innocently. She had heard tales of the Fallen Ones. Of creatures turned, of their evil being fed from within. This man in front of her, looked more as though he had stepped out of a men's magazine than Hell.

"Your worst nightmare."

Hearing this, Tess found herself stepping up, scolding Max. "Honestly, boy, you have been watching too many vampire movies."

"I have not." Max protested, not used to someone treating him as though he was a misbehaving child.

The spell had been broken. The Angels were no longer in awe of him and Tess's impulsive action might have just saved them, for it caught Max's interest.

Max walked to the bar and poured himself a drink. He tilted it, silently indicating whether they wanted one.

All three Angels declined.

"All right, children, who did you piss off? Tell Daddy. Nobody comes into my bar, well definitely not your kind.  Mind you, there was once a nun, but I don't think that counts...You have five seconds to explain yourselves before I kill you."

"You can't do that," Andrew declared.

"This is a bar. A gate to my domain. It is not a shelter. I don't need goodie two shoes messing with my décor and depressing my atmosphere. This place is suppose to be dark and dreary, and you're spoiling the mood."

Max put his drink aside, no longer interested in the whisky.  He groaned aloud.  "They wouldn't!"

"What wouldn't they?" Monica asked in her soft comforting tone.

Max rolled his eyes. "Sacrificial lambs. That hasn't been done in ages," Max waved his hands towards them, as though testing his eyesight to see whether they were actually there. "I'm not dreaming, this isn't a wish fulfilment, pretty sure it's not my birthday..." Their appearance at his bar was a puzzle to him.

Gregory would not have allowed this, and Max was sure that their presence here probably broke a few of the ground rules set by the Angels and the Fallen Ones. Rules of Engagement, if you would.

He looked them over, these Angels once Human, weaker than their older Kin, the First Ones, the Angels who were created before the Human race. These human Angels were easier to kill, and unlike their older brethren, there were no rules that stated Max had to let them go.

He looked over to the girl, so bright, eager, in an almost painful way, wanting to help, to save him and soothe his wounds. If he had any wounds that was.

The boy, who called himself Death. Laughable, but everyone had their illusions. Was this version of Death willing to die to protect his companions? Yes, it appeared so.

Lastly, the matron, who had treated him like a child, wiser than her companions, afraid and resolved to see this to the end.

He could kill them now, and he wouldn't be breaking the rules that only applied to the First. But he had never developed a taste for killing. Tempting people, yes. Playing with them, definitely, but killing them...no. Extinguishing a soul was something he led others to do.

A memory resurfaced.  One that he had kept tucked away during the time he had spent with David, between the divide that separated their two worlds.

A sacred pool, containing the souls of those waiting to be born or reborn, and David standing there, in it, bathing in its splendour, allowing the light to cleanse him, renew him.

Max had just watched from the sidelines, unable to look away, and in the process falling in love.

The closest Max had gotten to the pool was when he had dipped his fingers, testing its coolness only to pull back, scrambling out of the way, afraid of the joy and wonderment he had felt with that first contact.

For one brief moment, he had almost forgotten why he had been there, to bring David back to their father. He had almost been tempted to stay.

When he had left David, when their father had called to him, the memory of the pool had been pushed back until it had become but a distant thought.

"I grant you leave," Max told them, ignoring their shock. "Next time, I will not be so kind. My premise is off limits and tell Gregory I don't like to be played with; this is not a training ground." His presence faded and the three Angels soon found themselves alone in a dark alley.

He had shown mercy. He had let them go.

There was hope, Tess thought, as she gathered Monica and Andrew to her. Hope for their world. For them all.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Standing on a rooftop of a five-story building, Gregory wondered as he looked out to the city what it would take to turn the tide, to stop the quickly spreading illness that seemed to have infected the human population.

These humans so willing to sell their souls, to lie and cheat, to forget the sacrifices made by their God and his chosen Son.

He watched dispassionately, observing the malady that resided inside the human soul.

So much carnage inflicted every day on top of more suffering. At times he wondered whether it was worth it all, saving these beings from themselves, when they continued to fall back, repeating their misdeeds, committing the same sins time and time again. But then he remembered what it was like to see the birth of a new life, of a soul not touched by darkness, and he knew that the battle between him and the Fallen Ones was worth fighting.

It was that potential for goodness that was Humanity's saving grace.

He breathed in deeply, noting the muskiness of the air, hearing the sounds of the city as it too breathed and pulsed with life.

Nathan, a sandy-haired Angel, approached, with his hands in his pockets. To an outside observer, Nathan would look like a typical twenty-something up and coming young man, human but they would be wrong.

"Gregory," concern was obvious in both Nathan's voice and stance.

"How goes the war, brother?" Gregory asked. The war between them and the Fallen Ones was intensifying. In the past month, they had lost one of their own, Antonio, who had embraced the darkness.

"Maxmillian was tested." Nathan informed Gregory, disbelief marked his voice.

"And?" Gregory prompted.

"He passed. He let the Angels go unharmed." Nathan hadn't agreed with the others that Maxmillian's resolve, his willingness to commit mayhem on both the human and Angel population should be tested.

The others had disagreed with him, however, stating that as the Apocalypse drew near, they had to know whether Lucifer's son could somehow be turned and brought over to their side, to fight along side them.

Honestly, Nathan thought the bastard was having too much fun being evil, except...and there lay the problem...David had always argued that his twin could somehow be saved and, if push came to shove, Max would choose him, David, over all others.

More than anything, Nathan wished it to be true.

"He passed." Gregory so softly murmured the words that Nathan almost didn't hear him the first time. Yes, the tide had turn for them all and it was in their favour.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Months later, on another Earth.

It didn't seem possible that the stench of rotting flesh could get any worse but it had. War had begun and the Angels were losing. There was no Humanity left on Earth: compassion, Humanity's once saving grace, had died here long ago, crushed, its flame extinguished by the Sentinels who hunted the mutants and their defenders.

Azrael looked out to the land and wondered if those who had created these robotic executioners ever took the time to think ahead, of what would become of a populace once it lost its empathy. Indeed, once all the mutants were dead, Azrael theorized, this wrath would turn inward, gulping all those who would stand in its way.

As an Angel of Death, he could not interfere.

He clenched his fists, resisting the temptation to seek flight, to save, to battle, to protect the innocent from slaughter.  Azrael turned, unable to face any of this: the hatred, greed, fear and jealousy coming to him in waves, all things that consumed the human spirit, enslaving it, until all that was left was this dark shell.

Just as he was about to leave this world, he felt a presence of another, a kin, a brother Angel in flight, dressed in full armour, weapon in hand, sword and shield his only protection, as he went up against the Sentinels and their supporters.

Azrael swallowed the cry rising in his lips as he recognized the Angel. David. God's favourite.

David, who had now defied God's order that the humans were not children to be fussed over. Humans were masters of their fate and as such they had to take responsibility for their actions, even it meant their own annihilation.

The Angel, David, swung his sword, piercing the Sentinel. With his shield, he guarded the humans and mutants below him, creating an invisible barrier around them, protecting them from harm so that the gunfire from the advancing army could not reach them.

For a people who had once lost everything, the sight of their protector, swinging the Sword of Justice, brought hope back into their hearts. They began to pray, the kind of prayers that had once been discarded in the Age of Technology. Belief rose and they empowered the Angel who fought to protect them. They gave him strength.

Azrael watched from the sidelines, knowing that not all was lost but everything again changed when the Angel beloved by all fell to the ground below.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Continue onto A Rumour of Angels.

Feedback to Erika

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