Novenas: Rising of the Sun, Setting of the Moon
by Erika
Pairing: David/Buffy, Earth Angels/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
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.
Beta: Jose.
Summary: Family gathering.
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: Preceeded by Cry to Heaven: Temptation of the Flesh, Revelation 6:8. On a Pale Horse. Following are Heaven's Gate and A Rumour of Angels.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Give audience to my prayer, O God; do not spurn this plea of mine; hear and
grant relief. No rest I find in my distress, daunted ever by the hue and cry of
godless enemies, whose malicious spite would compass my ruin. My heart is full
of whirling thoughts; the fear of death stands over me; trembling and terrified.
I see perils closing round me. Had I but wings, I cry as a dove has wings, to
fly away and find rest! Far would I flee; the wilderness should be my shelter,
so I might find speedy refuge from the whirlwind and the storm."
(Psalms 54:
1-9. KJV)
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
Hellmouth.
Hell on Earth.
David flew into Sunnydale, and as his feet touched the ground the earth shook, and cracks appeared upon the dry soil spilling forth blood. Blood that soon turned to water, that feed the soil allowing the land to bloom, flowers blossom, welcoming the angel before it.
Centuries ago, during a skirmish, the blood of the Fallen Ones had spilled here, creating a portal between Earth and Hell. Demons of all kinds now inhabited this area, demons who thrived on the death and suffering of others.
Usually angels were prohibited from entering a Hellmouth, but, long ago, David had discovered that, unlike his other brethren, he had the ability to pass through Hell's gate, largely undetected.
David walked down the dark street, toward the graveyard and a young woman who battled daily the forces of evil and whose cry had shaken the gates above. His wings settled back inside his body, his stylish clothes camouflaging him, making him appear mortal.
Buffy.
Buffy Summers.
The Slayer. The woman-child, who had seen and experience so much suffering for such a young life. He wondered what she would say if he told her that he had held the first of her kind, at their moment of birth and later, at their death, he had been there to welcome them into heaven.
The Slayers had been created after the Horsemen fiasco, when four Immortals had set out to rule the known world. There had been fear among his brethren that if Immortals like the Horsemen were left unchallenged, there would be no end to their reign of terror. The Slayers were born out of the Archangels' concern to protect mankind, to have someone who could fight not only the demons but, if necessary, also the rogue Immortals.
Eventually, as time passed, the archangels recruited Scribes to record the history of the Slayers and that of the Immortal champion, Death. It had always surprised David that the Watchers never questioned how it was that they could trace their history back to the legend of Methos but not beyond.
As for the Slayers, their powers had differed then. At that point in time, they had had the ability of flight, the power to speak in tongues, to cast demons out of their human host. Today some of them were known as followers of Wicca.
It had been later, when the order had ventured into the East that the Slayers' full potential had been revealed. The Slayer physical strength, agility and recuperative powers were like no other. The fighting arts were introduced and were merged with the Slayers' other metaphysical abilities.
Unfortunately, in time, the Scribes took it upon themselves to guide and train the young women, concentrating instead on a Slayer's fighting skills, ignoring their other gifts until a new form of Slayer was produced -- the Warrior.
David entered the graveyard.
Buffy's anguish at her mother's death had rattled the gates of Heaven; her cry had pierced its eternal silence. The death of a parent. A death Buffy had not been able to overcome, and thus could not understand, not fitting in a world where she had, at times, even defied death itself.
David concluded that the hardest lesson mortals had to learn was that death was a part of life. It was a journey they would all have to take at one time or another. It was not meant as a punishment or a curse. But how to explain all of this to a Slayer who had already died once, years ago. Who defied death everyday in her battle between the forces of darkness and light; who saw the dead walking amongst the living, and who knew there were ways one could cheat the Grim Reaper.
He paused at a gravestone. Would she understand that it was one's soul that mattered, that made the living worthwhile and allowed for the rebirth to take place? That one day her mother would be reborn, again be someone's child, sister, friend, wife and yes, mother to another family.
David continued walking, stopping only when he neared the huddled figure laying roses on the newly covered grave. The figure rose, turn around, and changed to reveal ...
"I'm surprised to see you here, brother."
David stared in shock. He hadn't expected to see Maxmillian here of all places. The son of Lucifer spends little time here on Hellmouth; instead, he was known for seeking cities that had low demon population.
"Where is she?" David asked as his hands spread out beside him. He glanced to his left and then his right, checking for Hell's henchmen. He was sure that he had walked into a trap.
"Tsk. Tsk. Asleep on the job." His brother smiled, mischievous devilment behind those emerald eyes. Eyes so similar to David's own. "Cat got your tongue?" Maxmillian asked, walking toward David, unafraid.
"The girl?" David ignored the smile on his brother's lips or the way Max's hands buried themselves in his jeans pocket, looking relaxed, and, for all intents and purposes, mortal.
Approachable.
More like an angel than Lucifer's true son and heir.
"You know, I've got to say, you've become a classier dresser since the last time I saw you." Maxmillian said, leering at David, completely ignoring the bouts of silence and distance between them.
"I ..." David paused, always feeling slightly unbalanced, unsure, whenever he was in his brother's presence. A part of him had never recovered from their turbulent first meeting.
"Repeat after me, 'Hey dude, what's up?'" Maxmillian's smile grew brighter, if that were possible.
"What?"
"No wonder you guys are losing the war. I mean, honestly, don't they teach you anything up there?" Max brushed a stray strand of hair out of his own face. "I bet those old geezers are still teaching Church Latin to all the cute little angel-wanna-bes."
"Max." David was exasperated by the part of him which was enjoying this tirade, all the while knowing that this could only lead to Chaos.
Maxmillian waited but with no further words coming out of David's lips, he found himself chuckling at his brother. "Still stuck on monosyllables, huh, David?"
David turned, embarrassed, angry with himself, stalking out of the cemetery, no longer caring if, at that very moment, Max attacked him.
"Hey, wait up. I was only kidding. Come on, don't tell me angels can't take a joke. I mean, anyone nutty enough to wear white sheets for years ought to be ..."
"Stop!" David shouted. "For once, can't you be serious?" he asked.
"We tried that approach, David. It didn't work, remember." Max stated solemnly.
Yes, David remembered. They had been so young then. Each believing that he was right, each arguing for his cause, trying to convince the other to join them in the fight for or against God.
It had been David's happiest and saddest moment, getting to know his brother, loving him and losing him in one all-too-easy stroke of fate.
But he wasn't here for this. He wasn't here to relive old times.
"Look, I'm here for Buffy."
"You sure?" Max took out the palm pilot he kept in his back jeans pocket. "Let's see. Nope, you're early. Girl isn't dead yet. Never thought you were an eager beaver. Mind you, I always had my suspicions you were a teacher's pet, but still ..."
"Give me that." David tried to snatch the palm pilot from his brother's hand only to have it instantly disappear before them. "Damn you!"
"Don't swear." Max stated calmly, as though he were admonishing a small child.
"Why not?"
"God's watching. You probably lost twenty brownie points."
"Max, don't."
Maybe it was the pain in his brother's voice, or the way his green eyes beseeched him to stop, but Max found himself nodding as though silently saying 'the teasing is over'.
"Your vampire lover is with her. She's safe ... for now."
"You know about Angel?" A part of David had always wondered if his affair with the vampire had been partially due to his growing but unspoken attraction to Max, his brother. If by loving the vampire, a demon, he had somehow exorcised his need for his twin.
"Heard it through the grapevine," answered Max nonchalantly, except there was a glint in his eyes that said a part of him hadn't been too thrilled to hear the news.
"I didn't come here to argue or to fight with you, Max." David tried to explain, to soothe the pain he must have carelessly caused.
"The world won't end if I reached out and kissed you, David." Max said, eyes slightly bitter. So many unspoken words lay between them; each asking, thinking, 'what if'? What if they had been raised together instead of apart? Would that have prevented the desire each twin had for the other?
Max knew the reasons David had sought out the vampire, knew those reasons all led to him, David's unresolved feelings for him.
"We agreed, Max, not to speak of this." David found himself saying desperately.
"You agreed. It won't go away just because we wish it, David."
Silence. Damn silence between them, existing like a barrier that was never meant to be breached.
"Fine, have it your way." Max found himself saying, for once, not caring, walking back to the grave. The doorway back to Hell.
"Wait," David reached for Max. "Not like this. Don't leave like this." David's hand gripped Max's forearm.
"I won't be the thing by which you martyr yourself, brother." Max almost spat the words, yanking his arm out of David's grip. "Go back to Heaven, David. Go back to where you belong." Max's image flickered off and on, eyes glowing red, heat simmering around him.
"Max!" David called, his hand passing completely through his brother's now fading form and David found himself alone, in a cemetery in the middle of Hellmouth.
Alone.
Forever alone.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
| Alex Annex | Characters | Stories/Alpha | Stories/Author | Home |