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He was falling.
Always falling.
As he crossed the dimensional boundary separating Earth from Heaven and Hell, his outstretched wings could do no more than slow his descent through the air that grew hotter and more pungent with each passing moment. He fell too fast, in the emptiness between Paradise above and his fiery prison below, the seemingly infinite weight of his damned essence denying him the ability to even attempt to soar upward. He hadn't even tried in centuries. Instead he kept his eyes downward, on the burning plains and rivers of fire beneath him, rushing upon him faster and faster, a blur of angry flames and murky darkness. The blistering winds shredded the last remnants of his human guise as he fell, until he at last caught an upward blast of hot air upon which he could coast back to his home. Pandemonium, the center of Hell--he saw and headed toward the wicked spires, halls, and monuments which had been built by thousands of years of damned souls' labor. He soared to the highest spire of all, which marked his home, his palace. His prison. Beneath him he could hear the shrieks of terror and misery of thousands of his subjects, but they meant nothing to him at that moment.
He had too many other things on his mind. And one very specific soul.
He landed lightly on the balcony that circled the very tip of the high spire. The fierce winds buffeted and lashed against his leathered flesh, which had been worn rough and desensitized through millennia of abuse under these conditions. He folded blackened wings against his body and dug his fingers into the railing as he looked out onto the endless misery beneath him.
His world. His kingdom. Billions of souls, all his. Some feared him, some hated him. Some were insane enough to worship him and love him, in all his terrible and hateful glory.
But not the one he loved. Never the one he loved.
He was raw and bleeding inside. "Trust me," Ezekiel had said. A terrible mistake. Ezekiel didn't know what he was asking. Ezekiel didn't know what this could do to both of them.
Lucifer himself had not known the depths of his emotions until Ezekiel had found them and ripped them free. He had believed his own heart to be as weathered and hardened as his flesh, impervious to such feelings as love and concern.
It was supposed to have just been a fun little game, for fuck's sake. A way to throw Ezekiel off balance. Teach him a few things about respecting his master. Lucifer had found the mortal soul attractive and intriguing, and what he wanted, he took--to satisfy his lusts, pure and simple.
How love had crept into the equation, Lucifer didn't know. He didn't want to know. He just wanted it to go away.
He stayed there, brooding and thinking, for some time. It could have been minutes, hours...possibly even days. Time lost so much of its meaning here in this realm which never changed. He sensed one of his brothers approaching, and that shook him out of his thoughts. The dark figure descended from the smoke-heavy skies and landed heavily next to Lucifer, shaking the entire platform with the weight of his large, muscled body. His wings, like Lucifer's, were black as night, millennia of ash and smoke having irrevocably stained them from their initial pure white. His long hair was also blackened and stained, his flesh leathery and dark brown. His face was pinched into an eternal scowl, lines etched deep and harsh. It was hard to remember how beautiful he had once been, not at all like the fearsome creature he had become. Lucifer didn't like to remember it, for it only served to remind him of the transformation he, too, had undergone over time.
"Moloch," Lucifer greeted him, "to what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this day?"
"No particular reason," the fallen angel answered. "I was merely...passing by and saw you here. Only polite to stop and pay my respects."
Bullshit, Lucifer thought to himself, though he bit his tongue. Moloch never stopped by to simply chat or 'pay his respects'. The belligerent creature was always looking for a fight.
Indeed, the first question out of Moloch's mouth was, "And how is the situation with Ashur and the other escapees, these days? It has been some time since you addressed the council on the matter."
"Because there is nothing new to report. The situation is quite well under control. That bitch will be back where she belongs soon enough."
"And just how soon is 'soon enough', Lucifer? We have been waiting for months, waiting while your little police detective fumbles along, picking off the weaker ones while continually allowing Ashur to wander free, to build her power on Earth."
"He will deal with her when he is ready. I have complete faith in his abilities."
"Well, that is all well and good, but some of the rest of us do not share in your faith." Moloch stepped closer to Lucifer, studied him with fiery- red eyes. "Something is wrong with you, brother. You are troubled."
Lucifer snorted. "I am always troubled, Moloch."
"No, it is more than that." Moloch paused, his scowl deepening. "You are not yourself these days. This Ezekiel Stone...what has he done to you?"
"What has he done? He has reminded me how to feel, Moloch." Lucifer turned away from the angel's gaze and looked out across the endless burning plains of his domain. Damn him for that. Damn him for all of eternity, Lucifer thought. He didn't want to feel this. He didn't want to feel anything.
"You are hurting, brother. You should stop this. Get another to finish this mission--better still send an army instead of one man!" Moloch urged, placing a heavy hand on the devil's shoulder. Lucifer shrugged off the sympathetic gesture, knowing it was nothing but a ruse.
"No. No, it is too late now, the damage is done." Lucifer closed his eyes and breathed in deep of the acrid smoke, the sulfur and burning flesh and every other putrid smell his senses had grown numb to for millennia.
"You let yourself fall in love with him," Moloch observed, not hiding the shock and disgust in his voice.
"I did not let anything happen. It was entirely against my will, I assure you."
"What is wrong with you, Lucifer? First you allow Ashur and the others to escape through your negligence, and now you fall victim to love for a mortal soul?" Moloch shook his head.
"What of it?"
"Well, it makes me wonder if you are still capable of ruling our dominion. And I am not the only one of our brethren who is wondering the same thing."
"So that is what this is about. The vultures are circling. Talking about rebellion...that is how we ended up here in the first place, is it not?"
"And now that we are here, we must make the best of it. Prove to God and his legion of mindless, self- righteous followers that we are stronger! We cannot lose our souls, Lucifer, not a thousand, one hundred and thirteen, not ONE. Some day the great battle will come and we will need every soul to ensure our victory. And here you turn it into a GAME, making bargains with a mortal to clean up your mistakes. And then you fall victim to LOVE and you expect your brothers not to protest?"
"Is this a challenge?" Lucifer growled, turning and stepping into Moloch's space. "Speak it, say it if it is! I will fight you right now--all of you--if that is what you want."
Moloch stepped back and shook his head. "Not now, brother. This is merely a warning. But should you not heed it..." Moloch trailed off, then shrugged. "You might be the strongest of us, Lucifer, but can you stand alone against us all and win?"
With that warning, Moloch unfurled his wings and took flight. Rage burned just barely under Lucifer's control. The threat hadn't come as much of a surprise to him, really, for he truly trusted none of his fellow fallen angels. What loyalty and brotherhood they'd shared at one time was long since gone, replaced by resentment and thirst for power. Always more power. His power.
He turned away from the view of the plains and the city and stepped through the doorway, down the long winding stairwell that led to his private chambers. No one would dare bother him there. He needed time alone to think. Time to feel. Time to decide what he was going to do about Ezekiel Stone.
Lucifer left the detective alone for several weeks. At least, he never revealed his presence to him, even though he spent time every day watching him from near and afar. Just checking in on the man's progress, or so he told himself, even though he knew that was only part of the reason he watched. The other part was that he just wanted to be close to Ezekiel.
He wanted to talk to him. He wanted to enjoy another round of their usual verbal games and abuse. It was fun to have an adversary who, every once in a while (but not too often), actually managed to get the upper hand on him. But more than talking, he wanted to fuck the undead daylights out of Stone, to feel him writhing under the burning touch of his hands and struggling the entire time, trying to deny that he enjoyed it, that he wanted it and would do anything for it.
And more than even that...more than even that, Lucifer ached for what he could not ask from Ezekiel. To give over control and let Ezekiel take him, to have his buried feelings ripped free again, if only for a moment.
"Trust me," Ezekiel had said.
No. That wasn't even the issue. He did trust Ezekiel, as much as he could...but he couldn't trust himself. Opening himself to Ezekiel once, unexpectedly and without preparation, had nearly destroyed the mortal. The pain and rage walled up inside Lucifer was more horrific than Ezekiel could endure. He had not simply "blacked out" as a result of the joining; the fragile faux-human shell containing his soul had shattered and the very fabric of his soul had been damaged. Lucifer had rushed to repair the damage, drawing as much of his power as he could across the dimensions to keep Ezekiel's soul in this realm, bound to his own essence until he could release it back into a recreated demonic body. When Ezekiel had awoken, Lucifer had decided it was best not to tell him exactly what had happened, how near to destruction he'd been. The detective didn't remember it; he simply knew he felt terrible. Lucifer hoped that would be warning enough not to try a stunt like that again--warning enough to both of them.
At home, his brothers now kept their whispers of discontent mostly to themselves, and the threat of rebellion seemed a distant one. That was one small relief. It wasn't the first time such talk had arisen, but it was a threat he did not take lightly. Meanwhile, Ezekiel caught the demon in Albuquerque and was on the road again, heading toward Texas, on the trail of another escapee who was not doing a good job of keeping a low profile. His actions were making the national news and Ezekiel had not needed Lucifer's help in recognizing that a demon had to be responsible for the terrible crime wave. Stone did have good instincts, after all. And these days there seemed to be more confidence in his steps, his movements, even in his hunting. He was less likely to stall and agonize over making that final killshot. He was more focused on his job and less on haunting and pining for Rosalyn. That should have all been well and good, and just what Lucifer had wanted to see. And yet...
And yet, something wasn't right. Something was missing. Something had grown darker about him. Since the night the tables had been turned, and Ezekiel had touched his soul...
Well, it had to be expected, Lucifer supposed. What Ezekiel had touched and the damage it had caused had to have left its mark on him. How severe a mark, however, Lucifer wasn't certain.
The price of your love, you fool. You should have protected him from this. You should have stopped the game when you had the chance.
But it was too late now. Finally, he could stay in the shadows no longer. It was time to attempt to restore balance, to measure the extent of the damage done and see if it could be repaired. Ezekiel was spending another night alone in a dreary, anonymous motel room, watching the TV, working his way through a bag of chips and a six pack of beer.
"Here you are, blessed with a second chance of life on Earth, and the best you can do is waste your time with junk food and late night television?" The devil sat in the worn old armchair by the TV and shook his head. "You know, if you're going to waste your time here with idle pursuits, you could at least waste it with some more interesting idle pursuits. Something a little more meaningful than 'Frankenstein Meets the Mummy Princess'."
Ezekiel, who was sitting back against the headboard of the bed, looked at Lucifer briefly and then turned his attention back to the TV. His expression showed no surprise, nor dread, nor pleasure at finally seeing the devil again. It showed nothing at all. "Haven't seen you for a while," was all he had to say.
"I've been busy."
Ezekiel shrugged and popped open another bottle of beer. He played with the TV remote, flipping idly through the stations, not paying any direct attention to Lucifer. The disrespect was grating on the devil's nerves. He never would take it from anyone else, never, but he always seemed to take it from Stone. He supposed, in retrospect, he should have taken his lenience with Ezekiel's attitude as the first sign that he'd developed dangerous feelings for him.
"So what do you want?" Ezekiel finally asked him. "You have something to tell me about the next demon I'm supposed to go after? Or do you just want to fuck?"
"Well! We're getting right to the point tonight, aren't we?"
"Why waste time? It's not as if we ever have anything new to say to each other." Ezekiel tilted his head, looking upward as he continued, "Let's see if I've got the routine down by now. You want me to work harder and stop wasting time. Fine. I tell you I'm working as hard as I can, especially when you don't give me any help, so get off my case." He paused to take a sip of his beer. "You want me to admit that I want you. Fine, yeah, I'll admit it. You won that game. You messed up my head somehow, and now I can't go a day without thinking about getting fucked by you. Hell, I can barely go an hour without thinking about it. I don't understand it, but I can't seem to do anything about it.
"Then, you want to convince me that I belong to you, that I belong in Hell, no matter what I do here on Earth now. You know what? Maybe you're right. I don't know any more. And I don't feel like arguing about it." Ezekiel put down his beer and turned off the TV. Then he got up from the bed and walked toward Lucifer. He kneeled down before the devil and placed his hands on Lucifer's thighs, then he stared him right in the eyes as he concluded his speech, "We go through all of that and then it comes down to just one thing--you're either here to give me a clue, or you're here for a fuck. Or maybe both. So what is it?" Ezekiel asked, running his hands slowly up the devil's thighs.
Lucifer clapped his hands. "Very good, Ezekiel. Tell me, how many times did you practice that little speech?"
"Don't know. Doesn't matter. Just tell me why you're here now so we can get on with it."
"You know me so well, why do you think I'm here, hmm?" Lucifer asked, intrigued to know what was going through Ezekiel's mind. The defiance of his words, and the boldness of his actions, had caught the devil somewhat by surprise. This wasn't quite the same Ezekiel Stone he was used to. That darkness that he'd sensed from afar seemed to be much stronger than he'd realized. He could see it clouding Stone's normally sparkling eyes. The softness he was used to seeing there was nowhere to be found, replaced by a harshness he wasn't sure he liked at all.
"I think you want more of what I gave you the last time you popped by for a visit," Ezekiel answered him. "You want another good hard fuck, don't you? Like you'd never ask anyone else to give you, 'cause I'm the only one who can give you what you want."
Lucifer knew he ought to throw Stone to the bed and stop this. Fuck him hard and without mercy, but with plenty of pain and humiliation, remind him who was the master and in control of this relationship. But Ezekiel's hands wouldn't stop moving, caressing, sliding up now over his groin and rubbing against his already stiff cock. Yes, he wanted it, more than anything, but he couldn't let it happen like that again. He grabbed the detective's hands and forced him to stop. "This will destroy you, Ezekiel. You're playing with powers you don't understand. You don't know how close you came to destroying yourself last time."
"So? What does that matter to me."
"You would welcome annihilation?" the devil asked, the answer suddenly and sickeningly clear in Ezekiel's surface thoughts, before he even spoke of them.
"It would be better than spending the rest of eternity in Hell. Better than being this...twisted up inside. Wanting you."
The words stung. So did the pain and fear, now leaking out behind the darkness in the detective's eyes. "Liar," the devil dismissed, not wanting to hear this kind of defeatist talk from Stone. "You have too much of a fighting spirit to be so ready to give up! And what about your precious Rosalyn? What happened to your conviction that you were meant to be with her again, someday?"
Ezekiel shook his head. "I can't expect things to work out between us. Not now. You were right about that. I wouldn't want to touch her...to be with her. I wouldn't subject her to that. She's too good to ever be touched by someone who's been touched and used like I've been, by you."
Lucifer's grip on Stone's hands tightened, so tight he could hear and feel Ezekiel's bones cracking. Stone cried out in agony but Lucifer could not stop himself. "Do not forget who I am, Ezekiel Stone. I am your master. I am Lucifer, ruler of Hell, and I could send you back there right now, back to the eternal suffering you deserve for your insolence! And if you thought Hell was bad before, keep this attitude up, detective, and see what kind of misery you'll endure for the rest of time! Do you hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME?!"
Lucifer released Ezekiel's crushed hands and kicked the kneeling man away from him in disgust. Who he was more disgusted with--the mortal or himself--he didn't know. It didn't matter.
Fucking mess. What a fucking mess this had become. He wanted to leave. It had been a mistake to come here in the first place. He knew that this would happen. Love led only to misery and pain, and his love could do nothing but destroy the object of his affection.
He turned away from Ezekiel, turned his head and pulled his legs up against his chest, curling up around the pain raging inside him. What have you done to me, Ezekiel? And what have I done to you? This was why he never wanted to deal with love again. Never wanted to have to deal with these emotions, because they hurt too much, and he in turn could only hurt others. It was an endless, vicious cycle that he was better off avoiding entirely.
Ezekiel was a good man. At least he had been. Lucifer knew now that he had fallen in love with him because of that goodness, something so rare, so unlike anything he'd had the chance to touch since he had first fallen from Heaven and been condemned to Hell.
Now he'd touched it and in doing so, he might very well have destroyed it. The game was over. They both had lost.
He wasn't aware of how much time passed, how long he sat there lost in the misery of his thoughts. It was Ezekiel's touch on his clenched fist that finally drew him back.
Not a demanding touch, nor lustful. Not falsely sympathetic like his brother's, nor angry. Just a soft, soothing touch, testing, reaching out. Reaching for him. Lucifer turned his head and found the mortal soul kneeling once more before him, his broken fingers already healed, the darkness that had clouded his bright eyes gone. "I'm sorry," Ezekiel said. "That was...I shouldn't have said those things."
"The apology is accepted. It's about time you learned some manners," Lucifer sniffed.
"I don't know what's happening to me. There's a...darkness inside me, that didn't used to be there. Sometimes I can't control it."
"I am that darkness, Ezekiel. Such is the consequence of game you played with me last time...and why we can never play it again. You got too close to me, too close to things I can't share with someone as fragile as you. I could lose you entirely to it."
Ezekiel nodded, seeming to understand. After a while, he finally said, "So. Where does that leave us? What can we do, if we can't do that?" The question came with a small smile. The smile, more than anything else, caught Lucifer by surprise, and he laughed.
A little laughter felt good right now, damn good. To hold Ezekiel and see if he could mend some of the damage he'd done would feel even better. He took Ezekiel's hand and stood, pulling the detective up to his feet with him. "We can do this," Lucifer said, and then he kissed Stone. It was the same kind of gentle, healing kiss he'd shared with Ezekiel before leaving, the last time. The kind of kiss he hadn't shared with anyone else in millennia. Ezekiel responded to him, for once without struggle, without resentment and anger and with simple...
Acceptance.
Fuck, and it hurt. It was wonderful and it hurt magnificently and it was breathless and it was agonizing. It was all he wanted and not nearly enough, and all that he was certain he didn't deserve but Ezekiel gave it to him nevertheless. The pain was worth it. Someday he would overcome it. This love he felt was not a curse; it was his last hope. He felt Ezekiel's arms around his waist, pulling him closer, and he gave himself over to the embrace. Not too much, not as much as he ached to give, for he knew he couldn't. Perhaps someday he could, when he found some way to kill the rage and darkness inside him. But he would not destroy this one most precious soul in the process.
And for the first time, Lucifer sensed something more than pure lust and desire behind Ezekiel's actions, behind his kiss. He knew better than to mistake it for love, but it was something. Something akin to...understanding.
It was enough for now.