Raw [Nilla]

[LUCIFER]

There is no God

[/color]

Pike Creek, Delaware

His name was Nick Aaron and he was special. Well, he didn't think he was special, but there was something special running through his blood. He didn't know it yet though. This man, this Nick, was to be Lucifer's temporary vessel. Lucifer knew it but he didn't know that. Heck, he didn't even know that Lucifer or God were real. He was a hard working man who had been doing his best to provide for his family at a near by factory.

Family. That was a joke. Nicks eyes watered a little as he opened the gate that surrounded his house. It was always hard to go home...to an empty house. He paused and gripped the cold steel. It, the feeling of the chill against his hand, that was real. The pain that welled around his heart was dangerously real. He ran his hand over his face and bit his lip as he tried to contain himself. He was brimming with emotion, mostly pain. The man shuffled his feet and closed the gate behind him. He couldn't stay here too long...It just hurt too much.

His loving wife and infant son. Gone. They had been murdered, violently, only a week ago. His boss had tried to send him to counseling, to take some time off work, but he needed to stay busy to keep distracted. He couldn't sit in his empty home day after day. It would kill him. The pain, the anger, the grief would ultimately consume him. He didn't want that, no...On some level he did want it to consume him, as long as it meant not feeling this agony. He sighed and slowly walked to the porch to sit down. It was his wife he was thinking of, beautiful Sarah.

This was his routine. He was trying so hard to keep himself together. He gripped the plastic sack full of groceries. It took him twenty minutes to find the courage and will power to go inside his own home. How long had he and Sara saved for this house? How much of it had been altered with her touch? His mind swam for a moment and he tried to snap out of it. Nick couldn't think about her right now. No. No more crying for today. He swallowed as a familiar burning swam around his throat as he choked back tears.

That was it. He couldn't take this anymore for today. He couldn't be here...Even though the stains of his wife's and young baby's blood had been cleaned, he could still see them in his mind's eye. He put the groceries, the perishables, away before gathering his keys. It was time to go to the bar. He had spent more time there than he cared to remember. He looked at his car. No, he wouldn't drive there and back. He was upset but he wasn't crazy. He would walk. And so he did. It was a long hike but the burning in his legs from his jog did him good.

He pushed open the door to the bar and took in the smoky atmosphere. The music was drab and the lights were tinted in yellow but he didn't care. He sat down at the edges of the bar, trying to keep away from everybody but the tender. He thought about ordering a drink, but he asked for an entire bottle instead. He needed this, or something, anything, to dull this agony.

No God would let this happen...

[/right]

[ZERACHIEL]

The interior of the bar reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Zerachiel disregarded the pungent aroma, her eyes wandering over the building’s inhabitants until they fell onto the figure of a man she recalled from a dream. However, she knew that Lucifer did not yet inhabit the vessel, and she wished to meet the human the fallen angel would eventually occupy. His name was Nick and a fresh wave of sympathy washed over her as she remembered the news broadcast, which detailed the gruesome murder of both his wife and child. He had been deprived of his family and once Lucifer broke free from the confines of the pit, Nick would cross the threshold into her siblings’ age-old rivalry.

She calmly walked over to the man, seating herself beside him without an invitation. It had taken her a while to track Nick all the way to Pike Creek, Delaware, as well as to identify the vessel Lucifer had taken the form of; with the majority of her powers rendered inoperative, the angel had to use human methods in order to do so—which proved to be easier said than done. However, she did not regret the research or the journey. Everything happened for a reason; the good and the bad

Zerachiel felt the grief coursing through Nick, suppressing a shiver as the sorrow enveloped her. She had witnessed the death of her brothers and sisters on countless occasions, but the sadness usually faded away—life must go on. Unlike the individual beside her, he had shared an intense bond with his spouse and child, which outranked her love for even Michael. She deeply cared for her siblings, however angels lacked the profound emotional spectrum of humans; Zerachiel could not begin to fathom the adoration he felt toward the now deceased Sarah and infant. It overwhelmed her.

“The consumption of alcohol will not heal your wounds,” she said, seizing the liquor bottle from his hand without warning. “It will merely numb you to the pain temporarily, Nick.”

[LUCIFER]

What do you do..

[/color]

The man's eyes stared down at the ice cubes that floated in his glass he had asked for. He poured himself a drink, and another, and then another. He was going to finish this bottle. He could feel it. He needed something to blur the lines of reality and the alcohol was slowly doing it's work. He wasn't anywhere near drunk yet, not even tipsy. His tolerance for booze had skyrocketed in the last week alone. He looked at the amber colored liquid as it swirled around the ice. He had nothing really else to look at. The bartender watched him carefully with a pained look on his face. Nick had been a regular, only on the weekends, but now...

He wrapped his hands around the cold glass and looked at the wood grain on the table. What was he to do? He knew that his depression couldn't last forever. Eventually time would heal some of these wounds but not in their entirety. Nick was so lost in his own thoughts that he had almost not noticed the pretty blonde that came to sit beside him. He picked up the drink, thinking that she was another reporter. It made him angry. Why couldn't the press just let him grieve in peace? He was about ready to unplug the phone from the walls of his house. He was tired of the calls. Well, he was just tired. So very tired.

It really din't strike him odd that she knew his name. The news had ran a few stories about his family. There had been a family picture on the news a couple times. Had the media not covered the unsolved murder so much...he would have been surprised that she knew his name. The man gave a small smile, taking her words as an invitation to take another drink. He poured himself another glass and set the bottle down. Didn't she think he knew that? Of course it would only numb him. It was what he wanted.
"Please, don't...Unless you've lost the love of your life, and your child...Just..don't." he said as he looked at her direction.

His face was gaunt with agony and his eyes were red from days of weeping. He looked like Hell and he felt like it too. He moved one hand from the glass and rested it on the bar. Nick bowed his head a little and pressed his lips tightly together. He looked back at her for a moment, still thinking she was a reporter.
"And I'm not giving the media any more interviews. I'm sorry, but I'm done.
Nick was trying his best to be polite. He didn't want to explode upon her. It wasn't her fault that the two most important people in his lives had been butchered. He knew that.

When everything you've worked for is gone..

[/right]

[ZERACHIEL]

I am not associated with the media. My name is Zerachiel. I traveled to Delaware to meet you, Nick,” the angel responded. She could decipher the agony within his voice—still fresh on his tongue—and his eyes shone with grief, tugging painfully at Zerachiel’s heartstrings. The man’s pain continued to envelope her, the intensity of such raw emotion rendering her speechless. She furrowed her brows, wishing she could merely heal the hurt; however, human sentiment differed greatly from a physical injury. Gently, she rested a hand against his shoulder, body tensing as the connection broadened. The sadness intensified tenfold, causing Zerachiel to double over.

She had never known the complexity of the human mind. In Heaven, there was little sentiment, which her siblings rarely expressed. Zerachiel had grown used to the stoic nature of her brothers and sisters, though she had never been immune to these sensations. She had always been close to earth, closer to humanity than the majority of angels, and thus tended to be more expressive in comparison. However, this level of love a person could feel toward another and the misery they subjected themselves to subsequent to a loss always baffled her. Zerachiel never had such an intense connection; it must be a beautiful yet terrible thing.

“I am sorry for your loss,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. Tears dripped from her eyes, startling the angel. She could not recall the last time she had wept—when their Father had left . . . after the infamous battle amongst her family eons prior? Zerachiel could not remember. It was difficult to retain every memory, especially when new memories were made each day. “Someday, I hope you will be able to move on and create more happy memories . . .” she faltered mid-sentence. Did Nick even have a future? Lucifer had alluded that the man would probably not survive in the end. Was Nick born only to watch his family be torn apart and then to serve in an unpromising war?

This unsettled Zerachiel.

[LUCIFER]

I’ll take my last breath to say this

[/color]

His gaze had returned to his glass as he lightly prodded one of ice cubes with his finger. He sighed softly and the fingers on his free hand curled against the glazed wooden table. She wasn’t with the media? Then why the hell was she talking to him? She much have been one of those sympathizers or something. Maybe she was one of those stalker types, who followed the latest thing on the news. Whatever, and then he heard her name. His face scrunched up in confusion. That was a strange name. He’d never heard that one before. He looked over at her. Maybe the booze had affected his hearing, or maybe it was some sort of stage name. Great…she was a sympathetic stripper. This was just what he needed right now, not.
"Sara what?" he asked.

Nick didn’t know how far she had gone to get here. She hadn’t said yet. He felt sorry for her. He really didn’t want to talk to her right now, nor anybody for that matter. Still, it struck him odd that anybody would go anywhere to see him. He had a few friends of course, but they were being respectful and giving him his space. Besides, most of his friends were male, and they didn’t talk about emotions much. It just wasn’t in their nature, nor how society raised them. They had come to drink a few beers and talk about anything but what had happened, unless Nick mentioned it specifically. They were good friends, they really were, but he was so far gone…So lost from reality. Well, pain was his reality.

What was she getting at? He had seen some crazy people sense all of this, but was she a fan of Charles Manson or something? He recoiled slightly as she touched him. Did she get off on hanging out with family members that had been affected by homicide? The thought was sickening and the idea made his stomach churn. Maybe that was his empty stomach becoming angry with all the various hard liquor. He didn’t even bother pouring himself a drink diluted with ice, he just popped open the lid from the bottle and took a few long draughts from it. Maybe she wasn’t twisted…Images of what society had become was now twisted. He was finding it very hard to see the good in people right now.

Nick gave a weak smile as she tried to comfort him. He looked over at her slightly. He mumbled a low word of thanks, for her expressed kindness. He couldn’t count that how of how many phrases a kin to ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he had heard recently. The number was in the high hundreds. Maybe even a thousand. He gave a sad chuckle as she spoke again. He couldn’t see it. He didn’t see a future for himself now. His family was his future.

This broken world left me hopeless

[/right].

[ZERACHIEL]

My name is Zerachiel,” she repeated upon perceiving his confusion. “I apologize for encroaching upon your privacy. I know you are hurting. I feel your pain; the love for your deceased wife and child is strong. I cannot heal such wounds, though I pray that He will.” Zerachiel scrutinized Nick through tearful eyes, frowning ever so slightly. How would Lucifer be able to manipulate such a dejected man? Vessels were few and far in-between, though she could never take advantage of one whose heart had been utterly broken. She wondered why Nick would give his consent in the end. Did he believe that his future had died along with his family? Lucifer would be an escape from the grief . . .

“Stop,” she commanded, dismounting the barstool. The angel took a hold of the liquor bottle, wrenching it from his grip. “Please, stop.” She could not bear to watch Nick drown himself by means of alcohol. Liquor was poison and it would merely hinder him in the end. Zerachiel allowed the bottle to slip from in-between her fingers and shatter on the floor, disregarding the puzzled stares of those within the bar. “Do not allow the darkness to consume you. There is meaning in both the good and the bad—learn from your experience. You cannot surrender to your demons, Nick.” Humans had both their pros and their cons and she was relieved that she had not been programmed to admit defeat so easily.

“Would Sarah want you to suffer? Would she want you to give in? It would devastate her.” Zerachiel stepped forward, the broken glass crunching underfoot. “Believe it or not . . . you still have so much to live for.” She looked away, hands trembling at her side. Angels were supposed to help those in need, yet she could not help Nick.

[LUCIFER]

No miracle is coming

[/color]

No he had heard her correctly. She just had a weird name. Maybe it was just old or something, or it could be some of that new age crap. He had heard some weird names, mostly from famous people naming their kids. People were just so…weird. Nick grimaced as the blonde spoke of his family. He really didn’t like it. It wasn’t as if she had known Sara or little Michael. He had no idea who they were, their dreams, their fears, and she didn’t know him or his family. It was slightly infuriating but her tone told him that she was being earnest and was trying to be caring. He tried to gather his decency and held onto it so he didn’t snap at her. Instead he took a deep breath and swallowed as he kept his composure.

Nick turned his head as he heard her tone change. He started to frown a little bit as she got up. Was she leaving as quickly as she had come? He let out a disgruntled ‘hey’ as he took a hold of his bottle. He had paid damn good money for that bottle, and she broken it?! He stared at her in anger and shock as he stared at the pile of glass and booze on the floor. Nick clenched his jaw a little and then stared at what bit of alcohol he had left. He quickly drank it down before she could toss it away as well. She was nuts, throwing away good alcohol like that. Economic times were tough and what she had done was a total waste, especially to his wallet. He glared at her, but didn’t move to yell or strike her. On some level he wanted to, but he was not a man to hit a woman. He’d thought about it, he wanted to, oh certainly right now, but he had been raised better than that.
"You owe me fifteen bucks, lady," he said as he set the empty glass down.

The man gave another soft scoff as she spoke of the darkness. Then she hit a button. Nick bit his lip hard as she went on. She had no idea. She could not have any idea what ripple she had just caused in his mental psyche. Meaning? There was meaning to this?! His jaw was clenched tight and a muscle twitched in his neck.
"So…you’re telling me, that there was some sort of meaning behind the slaughtering of my wife and little boy!? You’re telling me that there is some sort of grand cosmic point to their brutal deaths?" he said as his tone of voice rose.
He pointed at her as he spoke. Nick leaned on the counter while he sat in his chair. He swung himself around to face her properly. He wanted to be very clear with this stranger. She had broken his booze, she had insulted the deaths of his family, and she was saying that there was some reason behind it, besides of a deranged monster psychopath on a killing spree? He wouldn’t have it

"Don’t you dare talk about my family…" he hissed. His tone was deep with hidden warning.

No place is safe

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[ZERACHIEL]

Unabashed, Zerachiel stared unblinkingly down at Nick. “Yes. Life is not fair and people die. Everything that happens on this earth has happened for a reason.” She took another step forward despite the threatening tone of his voice, invading his personal space. “I do not deny that what did happen to you is terrible, though I cannot simply stand by and watch a human such as yourself waste away when life has so much more to offer,” she spoke softly, voice pleading, despite her words remaining ineffective. “I am here because I wish to assist you, Nick. Fate brought me to you.”

The bartender gazed over at Zerachiel and she could sense the curiosity growing within the bar’s patrons. Wordlessly, she withdrew a wrinkled dollar bill and a meager quantity of change, and placed the money on the counter. A dollar and thirty-five cents was far from fifteen bucks, however it was all that she had. The angel never had reason to use human currency until now and she had discovered it was rather hard to come by. “This is all the money in my possession,” she stated. “However, I do not regret what I have done. Hate me, hate what I say, but I speak only the truth.”

“I was created to aid you—people. It is my soul purpose, yet I am failing. Nevertheless, I will not give in. I have spent lifetimes upon lifetimes witnessing the death of my siblings, watching people suffer . . . it pains me greatly, though there are some things, humans can only do themselves. You must choose which road to travel; I can only guide you, and hope for the best.” She realized she had divulged too many details; information she should not have blatantly let slip. However, it depended on how Nick interpreted what she said. The situation appeared bleak, yet she could not simply walk away and leave the man to his devices.

[LUCIFER]

I’ve never found that saving grace

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Nick’s eyes narrowed slightly. He was not amused with her in the slightest right now and as the tolerance for his alcohol slipped so did his patience with the stranger. He didn’t believe her cock-and-bull story about everything happened for a reason. This was life, not some sort of fairy tale. She wasn’t even here. Her head was in the clouds. And boy was she full of it. Why was he even listening to her right now? Why didn’t he just get up and leave. Maybe because that would have been quite rude or maybe because his legs were weak from the long jog it took to get here. He clenched and relaxed his hands as he held onto the small ball of decency in the center of his being.

Did this woman really want to get punched in the face? Every word, every action that she was giving him told him so. The little voice in his head kept telling him how much better he would feel if his fist connected with her face. That would be wrong. Nick was battling with his conscious right now as she spoke. What did life have to offer? Life snatched what he had and ground it into dust and threw it in his face! He had worked his ass off for what little he had and it was gone. There was nothing that could bring them back. His boy would be three months old now this week, if he were alive. Nick’s eyes burned with pain and indescribable rage. He couldn’t look at her right now. This stranger…this lady with the odd name and the crazy words…the situation was unbelievable.

"Fate? Fate is a fucking joke," he said bitterly.
The tired man looked at the amount of money and just shook his head in disbelief. This chick was just…out of her skull. Maybe she’d escaped from some mental facility. He looked at the bartender in a pleading manner. Unlike Zera-whatever-her-name-was, he had money. At this point he would run, or walk, or slowly stumble to the other end of the bar to get a few more drinks in him. He was going to need them if this conversation continued.

And that’s when she really unloaded the box full of crazy. Created? What kind of crack was she smoking? He looked back at her, dumbfounded at first. He couldn’t grasp what was going on. There were a few parts that still remained crystal clear, despite the alcohol starting to fuzz up his brain. He was in a bar, drinking, when this blonde stripper named lady came up to chat. She stalked him here…and she was created to help him? Was this the Twilight Zone? Had he stepped onto the set of the X-files? Confused and just, stunned, Nick started to laugh.

It sounded a bit forced at first, but then he really started to laugh. He shook his head and he looked back to the bartender, signaling for another drink and then he pointed to Z.
"Zoro lady here, was created to help people" he chuckled, waving a finger around his circular motion to tell the tender that Nick clearly thought the blonde, whilst pretty, was out of her mind.
The laugh had been good for him. While the bartender gave him a drink, even he decided that Nick needed to slow down. Instead of a couple shots the barman had given Nick a beer. The desperate man turned his back to Zerachiel and drank it as fast as he physically could. He whipped his mouth with the back of his hand before turning around.

"Look, lady…I’ve got problems, but I think you have bigger ones," he said, somewhat squinting at her, "You need to get out of this bar and go check yourself into rehab, right now. Otherwise, those drugs you’re taking are going to permanently fry that pretty little brain of yours."
This isn’t some science fiction movie, you’re a human he started as he pointed to himself and the other people he knew by name, like me, and Billy, and even Mr. White over in the back. he said after a few moments.
The blonde needed some serious help, but at least he had gotten a laugh out of the crazy meth addict stripper.

That gave you shelter

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[ZERACHIEL]

Fate is not a joke,” Zerachiel countered. “And I do not partake in drug activity.” She maintained her composure, despite his unwillingness to believe in the truth of her words. The angel could merely prove her intentions by demonstration rather than through verbal communication. Withdrawing the switchblade from her pocket, she disregarded the frightened stares and drew the cutting edge across her wrist. Blood surged from the wound, coursing in crimson droplets onto the floor. She heard multiple gasps and someone demanding another to dial 9-1-1. Zerachiel had a limited amount of power to employ and her actions were questionable, though she hoped this would alleviate her current situation.

A human would have required medical assistance to mend such an injury; the blood loss alone would have a detrimental affect on a person’s health. She merely manipulated her celestial energy, compelling the lesion to heal. The ravaged skin was replaced by brand new, unmarred flesh, the once gaping gash miraculously closing. The steady flow of blood decelerated, and then stopped all together. She inhaled sharply, her body trembling slightly, as her handiwork shown clear in the yellow glow of the light overhead. Nursing wounds grew more difficult each day—broken bones were more challenging—which greatly distressed her; she had been known for her ability to heal.

Lightheaded, she returned to the seat she had occupied at the bar, leaning against the counter for support. “I was created to help people,” she spoke, breaking the stunned silence. “That is what angels do.” Her voice was a mere whisper, the statement meant for Nick’s ears and no one else’s. Zerachiel did not know if her phenomenal stunt would be enough to change his mind—she had tried and she wished her last ditch effort to do so would succeed.

[LUCIFER]

I don’t need a friend

[/color]

Nick just shook his head. So she didn’t do drugs or drink. Well, good for her, but he didn’t really care. She must have been one of those ‘straight edge’ chicks. The more this woman talked the more he found her confusing. He held onto the almost empty beer bottle. It was his security blanket, of sorts. He heard the blade and he stiffened. Crazy bitch was pulling a knife on him? This was so not his day. He calmed down, but only slightly as she cut herself. He was so not impressed at this moment.

He didn’t watch the healing process she made by herself, but when he looked over again the wound was closed. Magician stripper lying meth head woman, she was just making her name longer in his head. He could hardly pronounce her ‘real’ name anyway. He gave a half amused chuckle and took a swig of his beer.
"Nice trick Copperfield." he scoffed, still unimpressed with her in general. He wondered how long she would hover over him. He really just wanted to be left alone now, especially after this ordeal.

Then she mentioned angels. All right, he had enough of this bull shit. Nick’s face turned angry as he looked at her in the eyes.
"Do us both a favor, and just leave me alone," he said.
He didn’t wait for her to answer. He got off his chair and walked over to the bartender and paid him for another beer. He unfolded the money and set it on the counter.

Maybe if he ignored her she would just go away. If she followed him home he was calling the cops. He had dealt with enough crazy people for one lifetime and she wasn’t helping him feel any better. He could handle sympathy, but this talk about fate and angels? Sense when did drugged up strippers have religion. It was hypocritical and ground his nerves into dust.

I need to mend so far away

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[ZERACHIEL]

Zerachiel frowned. “My name is not Copperfield. It is Zerachiel.” She could not understand why Nick failed to remember her name; it was not difficult to commit to memory. “How can I prove myself?” the angel inquired, pursuing the man as he repositioned himself. His willingness to immediately disprove her, baffled Zerachiel. No human could cure himself or herself in the manner she had, yet he still remained in denial. She leaned against the counter— out of breath—and stared disapprovingly up at Nick as he ordered another alcoholic beverage. A part of her wished to admit defeat, though she fought those alien emotions, determined to verify her claims in spite of the apparent futility of her words.

She glanced over at the bartender, who seemed to be as incredulous as Nick. Centuries ago, Zerachiel had had no difficulty in persuading mortals; never had doubt entered their thoughts when she revealed herself to be a servant of the Lord. Now, earth’s people lacked faith, which unsettled her. Zerachiel treasured the earth and its inhabitants—they were her Father’s creations—and it broke her heart to witness such a blatant inability to believe. Heaving a sigh of exasperation, she wondered if she could gain his conviction by way of teleportation. A human definitely could not teleport at will.

It had been a while since she had used her angelic abilities to transport herself. She had taken to utilizing the communal bus and cab systems humanity had created. Healing physical wounds were complicated; could she possibly summon enough power to teleport herself as well as Nick? It would be risky; however, desperate times often called for desperate measures.

Before he could react, Zerachiel took a hold of his arm and focused all her energy into achieving her goal. In the blink of an eye, the two vanished from the bar and materialized in what she supposed was his house; at least that had been her intention.

[LUCIFER]

Watch the end through dying eyes

[/color]

The broken man shrugged a little as she said her name again. He wouldn’t be able to pronounce it still, especially with the fuzz that was the alcohol that was settling nicely into his bloodstream. It was funny how one minute you could feel fine and then, whoops, you were intoxicated. It crept on you like that sometimes…Of course her distracting him kept him from keeping track of his drinks and the time between them.
"Whatever Sara-bell," he muttered mostly to himself as he kept as far away from her as possible without leaving the bar, not yet at least.

The man was working his way to full on drunkenness and he was enjoying it. Nick held onto his beer, looking at it like it was an old friend that he hadn’t seen in ages. He smiled at the bottle and brought the mouth of it to his lips and took a few more swallows of the earthy flavored drink. He had been ignoring her as she came around, until she broke his personal space and touched him again. He didn’t like it. He turned his head to voice his displeasure of the Bible thumping blonde but as he opened his mouth he looked around.

Nick had been very drunk before, very, very intoxicated. Being drunk had a way of messing with your mind, and the concept of time and space. He stared at his own living room for a moment, his face contorted in total confusion. Was he getting sober? It had felt like he was just at the bar seconds ago, and now he was home? He didn’t remember walking here. He remembered everything up until the point that Sara Bell blondie had grabbed him. Nick was suddenly disgusted with himself. Before Sarah…

Before he had met Sarah, he had been quite the lady’s man, but now? What was he doing? He looked at the angel in disbelief, not so much that she had teleported him…Because he didn’t believe in angels, or teleportation, or God for that matter. He was just confused with himself. Sleeping with her was not going to make him feel any better, and her appearance in his house told him that he was trying to get laid. He looked at the beer in his hand. He had walked here with her, with an open beer? Man, he had just violated so many laws. Was she a hooker too? Oh, God, the diseases! WHAT WAS HE DOING!?

"No..no no no…" he said.
He set down the beer and shook his head, spreading his arms out as he tried to separate himself from her and gather himself. She must have been one of those sympathy stalker girls. He was flattered on some level because why else was she here, with him, in his house, at this hour? He wanted to vomit and the thought of wanting to vomit did make him queezy.
"You can’t be here…I don’t know what I said, or what we talked about…but you, no. Thanks, but no...I mean, I’m really drunk. You don’t want to do this…I don’t want to do this." he rambled a little.

Even plastered, he couldn’t believe what he was, well, what he almost went to do. It was so…disrespectful to his wife. He hated himself right now.

Now the dark is taking over

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[ZERACHIEL]

The angel’s legs buckled beneath her vessel’s weight and she remained seated on the floor of Nick’s house. Zerachiel was physically exhausted, the fatigue overpowering her. Teleporting them both had drawn heavily upon her celestial energy; she wondered if she had potentially expended what had remained. Retaining her composure, she urged herself up onto unsteady feet, resting against the adjacent wall for reinforcement. Her body trembled due to the effort of remaining upright, though she did not resign to her bodily limitations. “I told you Nick . . . I am Zerachiel. I am an angel and I brought you here.” She stared sympathetically at the heartbroken man, wanting to reassure him—would he believe her now?

“Do not be frightened. I merely wished to prove to you that what I spoke of is genuine. The duration of time between our departure and of our arrival does not exceed that of a minute.” Zerachiel spoke softly, attempting to alleviate the tension. “A relationship between a man and angel is forbidden. I would not violate my vows,” she added quickly, realizing what had crossed his mind. Centuries prior, many of her brethren had fallen due to their attraction to mortal women; not to mention the outcome of their affair had been most vile—the nephilim. Inhaling a deep, luxurious breath, the angel kept a fair distance away from Nick, afraid of startling him further.

Her gaze swept across the room, analyzing, allowing silence to overcome them. She felt awful for inflicting self-doubt upon him. “I want you to know that you have not slighted your wife; you are most commendable, your love for her strong—even now, that she is deceased,” Zerachiel promised.

Angels were supposed to protect people; she could have protected Nick’s family. Why did bad things happen to humans? Her brow furrowed as she noticed—for the very first time—she was questioning everything she had once known. The thought sickened her.

[LUCIFER]

Never forget

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Nick’s hands were shaking a little as he looked around the room. It was still dark. He reached up to his face to feel if he had any cosmetics on him that had transfered from Sarah-whatever to his skin. He was a wounded animal, confused, afraid, and slipping into the depths of intoxication well beyond the legal limit of the state. His pupils dilated to take in what little light there was inside his own home. He eventually looked back at the woman on the floor. Had he hurt her? Had he finally done what he wanted to do in the bar and punched the crap out of her? But why was she here? He was so confused and all the options, theories, of how they were in his house were hurting his brain.

He let out a frustrated cry and ran his fingers through is choppy hair. He pulled at the strands as he paced the room as he tried to figure it out. Damn you alcohol, damn you. he thought with a sigh. He licked his dry lips and crossed one arm over his chest. He rested his elbow on his forearm and chewed on his index finger nervously. What was he doing? How did he get here? Why was she here? What was her motive? And why in bloody Hell was she still on that damn angel talk. If he had brought her home, he sure had picked an annoying chick. Of course he wasn’t able to leave in the morning…cause this was his own damn house. No more vodka and beer before bed, and no more blondes… he vowed to himself.

"I don’t have time for your fucking mind games!" he turned and just..yelled.
He hadn’t really yelled at somebody in anger for quite some time. He had yelled at God when he had found Sarah and Michael, but that was different. God wasn’t listening. God was dead, or he never existed in the first place. He had never been a very religious man, but now…Now he was in total support of that Big Bang Theory he had heard about so much of years ago. Nick just went off on her, his voice harsh and deep.

"You, are not a fucking angel!" he started, pointing at her as if she had done something wrong specifically, "Angels do not fucking exist. Don’t give me your religious bullshit. And I don’t know what ‘vows’ you made," he continued with full on air quotes, "But if you’re here you were damned well going to break them. Don’t stand there and lie to me, bitch."

His head was swimming and his mind was cloudy. He wasn’t even sure what all he said, but the outburst of anger felt…good. As she stepped away, he approached her with a few steps. She was in his house. She had invaded his privacy. The booze might have helped him get over what she had said in the bar, even though in reality that had only been seconds ago. He thought it had been long enough that he was starting to come back to being painfully sober, but this was the direct opposite. The booze was causing chaos within him, amplifying his anger, mowing down his self control like a vicious Captain Morgan with a grass cutter.

Had this bimbo not learned that it was a bad idea to talk about his family? Did she not have a shred of common sense? She knew what had happened to him and she was brining up Sarah, again? This woman was deranged, and stupid. He spoke of Sarah as if she was still here, and not resting in an urn in their, no his, bedroom.

"Do not talk about my wife!" he yelled even louder. He hadn’t been this angry in so long, and then the anger started to seep from him, escaping as he spoke of Sarah, "She’s not…she’s not…" he swallowed as the burning in his throat came on once again. He struggled for a long time, swallowing a few times as his eyes started to burn. Tears welled up in his eyes and he took a deep and shuddering breath before softly releasing the word, "dead…"

What a man says to you when he’s angry

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