Date: Sun, 21 Aug 2005 07:05:02 +0000
From:  Jason Parker <archangelmatthew72@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Angel: Chapter 26

Author's Note: Look how fast that was! Aren't you proud? No? Well fuck you
then. hmpf. Last time I rush to finish a chapter for you. Nah, just kidding.
Keeping you on your toes.

Disclaimer: This is me covering my ass. See?
*cover*


***

'Blood Letting'


	Jason stared at the crumpled form of his best friend. Blood still
pumped from Drew's chest as his body began to convulse in death-throes. He
felt the blood drain away from his face and it felt like someone were
crushing his heart under their boot. His throat tightened up. He flicked
the key up into his fist and charged at Damien, screaming as he caught the
fallen angel in the chest and sent them both sailing over the edge of the
precipice. As they plummeted, with Jason's body on top, he dug his knees
into Damien's sides and began wildly lashing out at him with his
fists. Damien desperately tried to fend him off and struggled to force his
wings out to stop his fall. His wings slithered out with a sound of metal
grinding on metal. They glinted dully in the fiery light. His wings weren't
enough to keep them aloft and they continued their rapid fall towards the
fiery caldera. For the first time in a long time, as Damien looked up into
Jason's rage contorted face, he felt genuine fear that he might not
survive.
	With each blow Jason landed on Damien's body, his own form changed
slightly. He felt his body grow longer and larger, his muscles rippling
under his clothes. Damien's wings caught a gust of hot air and they rolled
backwards. Jason's head cracked against the stone cliff, jarring him, but
he refused to relinquish his hold. He used his weight to force Damien into
a roll again so that he was underneath. The impact of his head against the
wall had sent them barreling further out over the caldera and away from the
cliff edge. The roiling sea of lava rushed up below them with frightening
speed, but he no longer cared. The bastard under him had killed his best
friend, and all for a damnable quartz key.
	The blistering air rushed past them, carrying cinders high into the
air. Together they crashed into the top of a column of stone, still holding
out against the sea of magma, Jason's knees still pinning Damien to him. He
didn't even wait for his body to stop ringing from the impact. Had Jason
not changed, his knees would surely have shattered on impact with the
ground, sending his body crushing into Damien. But his body had changed. He
was now nearly twice the size he had been, his skin a dark bronze color. He
continued to pummel at Damien, the key still clenched in one fist. On one
swing, Damien raised his arm to shield himself, and his fist carried on
through the fallen angel's arm, shattering the grafted bone and metal
underneath his flesh.
	Jason's screams of rage and anguish echoed across the caldera. The
workers in the foundries and workshops dropped their burdens and tools and
fled in terror, sure that the earth was going to split apart yet again. His
fists pounded again and again into Damien's body, shattering bone and metal
alike.

	Mephistopheles watched in wonderment from where he lay on the edge
of the cliff as Jason's body continued to grow and alter. Every lash he
delivered to Damien's rapidly disintegrating body, his back bulged, growing
larger and larger. It moved as if there was something trapped under his
skin, writing and spinning to break free.

	Jason's vicious attack continued as he burst through Damien's chest
and continued to pound his innards into the ground. Gore splashed out over
him, coating his arms in thick black ichors. Damien had long since ceased
to fight him, his body shattered under the attack. Jason grabbed the sides
of what was left of his rib cage and tore them apart, flinging them away
from him, over the edge into the lava below.

	Mephistopheles almost laughed in delight as he saw Jason fling his
arms out to the sides of him. The boy's body suddenly reeled forwards and
the pressure under his back built to a critical point. His skin split apart
as six pairs of blood red wings burst outwards, twisting and beating
against one another, struggling for space. The boy brought his hands
together over his head and slammed them down one final time, smashing
Damien's head like a ripe melon. The fallen angel could see the heat of the
fires scorching both the boy and Damien's remains. Jason raised himself off
of his knees, his clothes falling away from him in singed tatters. He stood
to his full height of eight feet and stretched twelve wings out like a
massive cape of blood.  The fallen angel made out a reddish flash of power,
before Jason turned and leapt into the air.
	With his twelve wings beating hard, he shot up into the sky, before
pausing and turning back to look over the caldera. Even from afar,
Mephistopheles could see his hands start to glow with red light. The fallen
angel wondered briefly what he was doing, before his eyes spotted movement
on Damien's crumpled body. Ever so slowly, it was remolding itself, flowing
together and repairing his body. Jason opened the clenched fingers of his
left hand, still wreathed in red fire, and raised it suddenly into the
air. The sea of magma began to churn and boil. He jerked his right fist
upwards as well and a wave of lava shot upwards, crested and then crashed
back into the burning sea. This time, Jason raised both of his hands
together, and two waves rose up out of the magma. They rushed from either
side towards the rock pillar where Damien's body was even now struggling to
rise again. The waves smashed together on the rock, shattering the sides.
Damien's anguished cry rang out as his footing crumbled and his
regenerating body tumbled downwards to be consumed by the burning magma.
	Jason turned again and raced up towards the fallen angel. He
alighted on the plateau in a matter of seconds and Mephistopheles saw that
while Jason's clothes had burnt off in the heat of the fires, he now wore a
form of chain mail loincloth that draped down between his legs on both
sides, reaching down to his calves, as well as a pair of chain mail
boots. His once blond hair had now all turned to a dark pitch. His eyes
were no longer blue either, but a solid black with tiny pinpricks of red in
the middle. Even his eyebrows had changed. Gone were the graceful arcs that
had graced his brow. Instead, they slanted up-wards, giving him a wicked
and menacing look. He looked to the body of Drew on the ground and then to
his still clenched fist. He relaxed his fingers, opening them to reveal the
key still clenched firmly. In fact, so tight had his grip been, that it had
cut an outline into his palm, which oozed beads of ruby blood. He lifted
the chain and lowered it around his neck so that the key dangled against
his bare chest. Jason bent and scooped up the limp body of Drew in his
massive arms. Without a word to Mephistopheles, he launched himself into
the air, his wings quickly carrying him high overhead. He seemed to hang in
the air as he met a resistance and pushed against it. A deafening crack
resounded off the crater accompanied by a blinding red flash in the sky.
	Mephistopheles stood staring up at the tear that now split the
sky. The red glow of the lava was countered by the bright yellow light that
poured in. After few moments of awed silence, he opened a telepathic
channel with Lucifer. "My lord, you were right. Damien has finally been
destroyed, and even as we speak, Azreal has torn open the fabric of this
world and rushes towards Heaven. Signal for the army to gather into
formations, and I will be at your side to lead them momentarily."

***

	Matt wound his way through the labyrinth. He found it considerably
easier than when he had first walked the pattern in Heaven. He was already
nearing the third barrier and was still able to keep a jogging pace. He
barreled into the last barrier, and almost froze. Only his deeply rooted
instinct to keep moving kept him from standing still. Even as the force
closed in on his mind, his body continued to inch forwards. While the
pattern in Heaven tested your body and resolve, he realized that this
pattern tested your mind. He felt an un-seen force working through his
memories, and with each memory it rifled through, he saw it quickly played
out in front of his eyes. The first warning bells started to go off in his
mind when the presence reached the point in his life where he was still
being taught about the old days and the Ancients. Pain flared behind his
eyeballs and the memory stopped in its playback. Knowledge filled his mind,
overlaying the memories and wiping them away. When again they were
replayed, they were full of things he'd never heard or seen before. Tales
and visions of the ancients, of the War, of the fallen angels. His entire
history seemed to be being re-written.
	Things Matthew had been told since he was a child, the lessons from
the elders, his readings of ancient scrolls-- even things his parents had
told him, were one after another, wiped clean and replaced with different
stories. Stories, in which Heaven was, to say the least, cast in a very
different light. The entire conflict between Heaven and Hell was shown to
him in a different light. The disturbing thing, he found, was that these
new memories and explanations made more sense. Even as a child he'd found
some of the explanations and ancient stories lacking or confusing. But
centuries of his elders telling him the same thing time after time had
imbedded them in his mind as truth. He'd seen it before in humans to a
different degree. They could tell themselves a lie over and over again,
until eventually their subconscious adapted the lie as the truth and they
could no longer remember anything different. It was a sickening feeling he
felt in his stomach. Like the world had just dropped out from under his
feet.
	He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to block out the visions. He
conjured up an image of the pattern in his mind, and continued to force his
way towards the centre, following the curves and arcs. He expected to come
out through the last barrier at any moment, but it seemed to never end. At
last, he stepped off of the pattern into the ring at the center. When the
invasion of his mind didn't end, he created a mental wall around the part
of his brain that dealt with memories, isolating it from the parts of his
mind he'd immediately need. One of the stone pillars stood directly in
front of him. He peered into the recess where the gem still glowed with an
inner light. He set his jaw and made a fist. The gem shattered like glass
under his first punch. The light in the hall seemed to dim slightly.
	At the next column, he curled his knuckles and again shattered the
gem. The ground seemed to vibrate under his feet for a few minutes before
quieting. Each gem shattered as easily as the first, but by the time he'd
destroyed eight of them, the light in the hall had definitely fallen, and
the ground had adapted a steady tremble. He looked behind him and the
flames of the labyrinth seemed to barely flicker with life. With the
shattering of the tenth gem, the flames finally died out all together, as
the ground seemed to come to life under his feet. He focused on the light
of the eleventh gem, wary of the chasm in the middle of the cavern. He
stumbled several times before he reached it, and then too, he smashed it
with his fist. Shards of broken gem clung to his knuckles, imbedded in his
skin.
	As the twelfth and final gem splintered under his fist, the whole
mountain seemed to shake. The ground buckled and chunks of rock rained down
from the ceiling. A chunk the size of Matt's head crashed into the cage and
ricocheted off onto the ground, sending it rocking. Matthew's father
continued to sit motionless and he panicked to think that the aged man had
somehow died in his seat. The floor groaned and then all twelve stone
pillars simultaneously toppled inwards. The struck one another at the same
time and locked in place by their own weight, forming a cone over the chasm
just under the cage. He eyed the heavy lock on the door, before snatching
up a large rock chunk and running up the nearest pillar. He balanced
precariously on the smooth stone, and when he struck the lock, his footing
gave, causing him to slip down several feet. He clambered to the top, and
this time using both hands, he raised the rock over his head and struck the
lock hard. It sparked and the chain snapped. As the tremors in the cavern
continued to grow, Matt flung open the door of the cage. He was worried
he'd have to pick up his father and carry him out, but the old man was on
his feet in a flash, stepping down out of his imprisonment even before the
door and swung fully on it's hinges.  Together, they slid down the columns
and onto more secure ground.
	And not a moment too soon.
	A roaring, rushing sound filled the cavern as red light seeped up
out of the chasm. The force of wind being pushed up the chasm was so great
that it blasted the fallen pillars outwards, narrowly avoiding Matthew and
his father. The cage shot upwards, jerking the chain it dangled from free
as it was knocked to the side by the rushing air. Matthew grabbed his
father's arm and ran with him towards the exit of the cavern. He felt a
great foreboding for whatever was rushing up the tunnel. Red light blazed
out of the yawning pit, lighting the room malevolently, before something
shot out of the hole. They stumbled as whatever it was, impacted with the
roof of the cavern, and the whole mountain shook. Rock shattered and split
apart as the force continued to push upwards. With a horrendous ripping
sound, the mountain tore apart and the thing shot upwards through the gap
it had created and into the open sky far above.
	They covered their eyes and coughed against the cloud of dust that
descended from the ceiling. Some one screeched in the cavern, and Matt saw
a shape moving through the debris, flailing her arms about to clear the air
before her. His mother spotted them from across the room and shrieked again
in rage.
	"What have you done here Matthew?" She cried as she drew her sword
and marched towards them.
	She halted halfway across the cavern, as again the room was filled
with a rush of air, and this time the sound of thousands of flapping
wings. All three pairs of eyes darted back to the chasm, as river of shapes
poured out of it, rushing upwards through the split in the mountain. Matt
caught sight of black feathers, scales, shining steel among other things,
as the rush of shapes continued to pour outwards and upwards. He tore his
eyes away from the sight and looked for his mother, only to see her
slipping through a stone door in the side of the chamber. It closed shut
behind her, fusing with the rest of the wall again without leaving a
trace. He grabbed his father's arm and guided him towards the tunnel he'd
taken on the way in. He tried to run in the darkness, but shapes seemed to
lurch out of the darkness at him, only to turn into nothing.
	"Make a light, Matthew." His father spoke for the first time.
	He summoned up the energy and felt it flow up his wrist towards his
hand. He expected it to splutter out into darkness as it had before, but
was surprised when it blossomed into a glowing pinprick of light. He fed it
energy until it hung as an orb before him. Together they raced up the
tunnel, the roaring of the cavern echoing on their heels.
	"What about Miriam?" Matt asked as they raced around a bend.
	"This place is riddled with secret passages." His father answered
without emotion.  "She's probably well on her way out and heading back to
her seat in Heaven."
	Matt couldn't help but laugh inwardly. "She'll be in for a nasty
shock when she gets there. The council has voted her out of power when she
stopped showing up, and I think Ashley is running things now."
	His father looked at him as they burst out into the bright, but icy
air. "Everyone's in for a nasty shock Matthew. Those were fallen angels
among other beings."
	"What?" Matt almost shouted.
	His father's wings blossomed down his back with a silvery light. He
shook them and stretched them to their full reach. "The armies of the
underworld are marching on Heaven, lead by two of the first generation. We
have to hurry." He leapt off of the ledge, and Matthew almost shouted out a
warning that you couldn't fly where they were. But the air caught his
father's wings and the elder angel rose suddenly on a draft. Matt quickly
spread his own wings and followed suit, rising quickly after his father.
	"You said there were two first generation angels," he shouted to
his father over the rushing air. "But Lucifer is the only one left... all
the others vanished thousands of years ago--"
	"Look into your mind Matthew. Forget what you were told by the
elders in Heaven.  What did the pattern show you?"
	He looked into his own mind, bringing down the mental wall around
his memories. He could still feel them changing as they flew, the force in
his mind growing closer and closer to present times.  He looked back into
his childhood, back through the centuries to when he'd listened in
fascination to the tales the elders told them about the Ancient Ones as
they conjured up images to show the children. Rather than the original tale
he remembered, he now saw visions of the War-- before it had been won. He
was thrown into the midst of the battle and immediately recognized the
twelve ancients-- the first generation angels who battled.  Eleven of them
against Lucifer. But a red streak shot through the battlefield, it's six
pairs of wings whirling and flapping, and Matthew immediately recognized it
for what it was. A thirteenth Ancient. A first generation angel that had
seemingly been wiped from the history of Heaven.
	"He's come back." His father's voice shook him from his revere.
"Azreal has finally come back."

***

	An aide came running into the council room, shouting for the
president over the hub-ub of the Antioch Council.  "Sir! Mr. President Sir!
We're receiving a transmission from our Chinese agents near the
Indo-Chinese border."
	The president dropped the manila file he had been examining and
swiveled in his chair to face the screen. The wall split apart again and it
opened, relaying a display of radar scans with their agent's voice
talking. "Mr. President, these images just came in a few minutes ago."
	The green radar map showed nothing over the mountainous area, until
suddenly a dot appeared on the screen. The sweep of the radar only caught
it three times before it was off the map. "We detected an object moving at
immense speed over the mountains, heading west, out of the mountains. There
was no sign of it over India or Taiwan, which means it took off from
somewhere in the Himalayas."
	"You're sure it wasn't just a computer error?" The President asked
into the com.
	"No sir. We thought at first that it might have been a meteor
coming in, but then a few minutes later we started getting these readings."
	The radar screen blossomed with a green splotch that grew and grew,
before it too shot across the screen, hot on the heels of the first
dot. Except, this object wasn't a dot. It moved in a band across the
screen, like a green snake, and it didn't seem to end."
	"What IS that?" Someone shouted in the room, loud enough for it to
go through the com.
	"We don't know. Whatever they are, they're packed so tight that the
radar is reading them as one continual object."
	The President leaned over the com. "Get a jet in the air there. I
want video images of whatever this thing is."
	"I'm afraid we can't do that sir. The Indo-Chinese border is being
closely watched by both countries. There's no way we can get a plane near
it without drawing attention of one or the other military.  We'll have to
wait until it's over less contested air space to investigate it."
	"Can you tell which way it's moving?" Someone else in the council
asked.
	"Due West sir."
	The President had more pressing issues on his mind.  "How soon
until someone else notices it?"
	"They probably already have sir.  If we hadn't received your
warning earlier, we would have assumed our radar was malfunctioning and
taken the whole thing off line to be fixed. They probably think their
machines have a glitch and will be in a panic that they could be under
attack without any working radar. We should have at least a few hours
before they're as sure as we are that it's real."
	"Good. We'll contact other operatives and get a plane in the air
shortly." The President said, signaling the conversation was over. He
switched off the com and then looked up at the room. "If anyone knows what
the hell is going on, now would be the time to step forward and say
something..." His eyes cast around the room and fell on Mr. Parker, where
they lingered before passing on.

***

	Jason felt only semi-aware of what was happening. It was as if he
were seeing everything through someone else's eyes or-- or like he was
watching a movie from his point of view. He could see what was happening,
but he had little idea how or why he was doing things and no control over
what. He saw the land rushing past far below him, as if her were flying,
and he saw more than felt the body he was carrying. He wanted to check his
best friend to see if he was ok, to make sure he was still breathing. But
he couldn't. And he didn't look at Drew for very long. Every now and then
his head would angle down, as if to make sure he was still carrying the
boy-- how he was managing to carry him with such ease, Jason couldn't
figure out either, but it seemed less strange than the fact that the land
below seemed to be frequently obscured by clouds.
	The land underneath him was replaced by a vast expanse of blue, and
he realized he was over water now. Maybe he'd been knocked unconscious
somehow and was in a plane? He thought furiously, trying to figure out what
was happening. If he were on a plane, he'd have to be facing a window... in
fact, his face would have to be right up against the glass. But
then... that would mean Drew were out side the plane... and if Jason were
on a plane, he should be able to turn his head and see the rest of the
cabin. He tried doing this, but his head didn't seem to respond.  After a
few moments, his head tilted downwards and Jason found himself looking at
Drew again-- his arms, holding Drew, and the blue water rushing past
underneath. The waves looked like choppy water in a breeze, until he passed
an oil tanker that looked like a bath toy and he realized just how high he
was.
	He tried desperately to think what was happening. He remembered the
plateau. He remembered Damien stabbing Drew-- why wouldn't his body listen
to him and check to see if he was ok?-- he remembered barreling into Damien
and knocking him downwards off the cliff, but things had gotten hazy after
that. He saw himself, as if through a sheet of gauze, battering into Damien
with his fists until they hit a column of stone. He'd kept pounding his
fists into the bastard-- that was it! He'd been so recklessly involved in
attacking Damien; he hadn't noticed someone approach him from behind. One
of Damien's allies must have attacked him and-- and what? And knocked him
out? He hardly felt Damien or his compatriots would just let him leave, and
make him fly no less! And if he'd somehow been possessed by a demon working
with Damien, then... why was the demon carrying Drew away from them to
safety? Nothing seemed to make sense, and his head started to throb. Or
rather, his MIND started to throb. He couldn't feel his head. He couldn't
feel any part of his body.
	Without him realizing it, they'd reached land once again, but now
they were going lower. He was through the clouds, down, down, down. He shot
over a city-- was it Boston?  Philadelphia? With his burden still held
tight in his arms, he went lower and lower, he could see individual roads,
and then roofs and swimming pools, covered over for the winter, soon he
could make out the branches of trees as they went lower and lower over the
land. He was over the suburbs of some area, and then he began to recognize
the area. There was Fiona's house, there Mrs. Miller's house-- the cat lady
everyone said was crazy and who'd terrified Jason as a child-- there was
his street, the lamp Matt had stood under to sing to him, the lamp Damien
had abducted him under. And his house... they were over his house now,
through the smoke of the wood fire in the living room and over the kitchen
where--
	His mother was lying facedown in the snow, shards of broken glass
and wood all around her. He was going down towards her. He needed to check
to see if she was ok! What had happened? Where were Sara and Scott and his
dad-- and Matt? Where were they all? Had someone called an ambulance? He
laid Drew carefully in the snow, trying to avoid the larger shards of
glass. With Drew out of his arms, he could see the hole in his
chest. Damien's blade had been thicker than he'd thought. The boy was an
ashen color, and he didn't seem to be breathing. He needed to do
something... CPR or... or... something! But he was standing now. He didn't
even go to his mother to see if she was ok. Why not?! WHY WOULDN'T HIS BODY
LISTEN TO HIM! And then he was shooting upwards again. Up, higher and
higher into the air, away from his friend, away from his mother, away from
earth.
	His body raised its arms in front of him, and his hands were
wreathed in red fire. He was burning! He needed to put them out, his hands
were on FIRE! But his body wouldn't respond. The air around him crackled as
the ions became charged. Lightning arced out of the air, striking his
hands. Again, and again, and again until he lost count.  Suddenly the air
before him snagged on something. The air was bending, as if he could see
it. The clouds ahead and above him seemed to be stretched taught and bend
away from him. He heard a sound of thousands of flapping wings and clinking
metal, and his head turned towards it. He saw a black dot that quickly grew
into a rushing dark mass that streaked across the sky towards him. His head
turned back and his arms seemed to shoot forwards.  Everything seemed to
freeze-- the clouds stopped drifting, the birds below him stopped circling,
and the flames on his hands stopped dancing. And then the sky tore open. It
ripped apart where his hands were, and the tear lengthened and widened
until it tore open the sky as far as he could see.  And then his body was
moving through the rift, leaving his world behind as he drifted
into... Heaven.

***

	Elizabeth groaned as she pushed her hands under her and raised
herself out of the snow. Her head felt like it was splitting in two. Her
vision swam and she closed her eyes again. Something prickled her hand and
she opened her eyes again to look down. A shard of glass tickled her right
hand. She pushed up into a kneeling position and looked back at her
kitchen. The French windows had been shattered and the fragments of them
littered the snow around her. Drew was lying a few feet away. He looked
oddly pale. Mindful of the glass, she picked her way to his side. They must
have been outside for a long time if he'd gone that pale.  Even his lips
had a bluish tinge. She realized they'd have to get inside quickly before
they became hypothermic. She tried to shake him, but he didn't wake.
	"Come on Drew, you need to wake up," she said loudly. "We need to
get inside before we freeze."
	She shook him more vigorously, shaking his body. His head lolled
from side to side in the snow, but he didn't move. She sat back on her
haunches and was about to stand, so she could drag him into the warmth of
the house, when her eyes fell on the hole in his chest. She placed her hand
on his side, near the wound to inspect it, but jerked her hand away when
his shirt felt cold and wet. She looked at her hand, now stained red with
blood, and screamed.

***

	Ummmmmmmmm.... oops? Did *I* do that? I guess I did. Uhh... crap.
Sounds like Drew lost a lot of blood-- you think he'll make it doctor?
Oh... I see. So wait... Matt's got his dad back, Miriam's popped up again,
Damien's a crispy fritter, Jason has a suppressed psychotic persona and
um... he's ripping open the world like a present at Christmas? Well, you
know what they say about Christmas. No, neither do I actually. The only
saying I know about Christmas is "As camp as Christmas and twice as shiny,"
only, Jason doesn't seem too shiny right now... maybe he just needs a good
buff.
	Anyway, that's the end of chapter 26-- and wasn't that FAST?! I
mean just look at the difference. Two months, compared to just over a
week. See, I do it fast when I'm feeling inspired.  Or when I'm just so
bored that I have nothing else to do but write and-- ooo look, a ladybug!
Comments and questions to ArchangelMatthew72@hotmail.com Don't be afraid to
talk to me, I only bite when I'm really really hungry.  And I won't be a ho
if you decide to criticize me or my story-- well, not as long as you're not
just being a bitch for the sake of being a bitch. I'm rambling now, so I
need to stop. Take care, and see you in chapter 27!