Fallen

Genevieve

    "Jezebel?"

    He sighed as the little Demon strode beside him, tightly holding onto his hand as her orange eyes stared up at him. She was one of the few Fallen that were cast out with him. Her hair was once like fire, wild and a shock of red. Her skin was like ivory and her eyes a brilliant hazel. Now, she had scales stretching across her womanly figure, a pair of bright orange burning eyes, and a small little Demon commonly mistaken in the Bible or in others tales.

    "What saddens you? Who should I kill?" Her eyes swept around them wildly. "I can kill them, right? Torture? Peal their skin from their bones? Pluck out their eyes? What about turning them inside out? I could-"

    "It's not like that." Lucifer muttered more to himself.

    "Then what is it? I haven't seen you this upset since... well, you know."

    He knew she was hinting at their fall from Heaven.

    "Is it that Angel? I can pull off her wings for you!" She squealed with delight.

    He whirled around so suddenly, tugging her to him as flames leaped from his eyes.

    "YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING!" He snarled into her face.

    She shrank back, the embers in her eyes extinguishing as a whimper left her lips. He stood panting over her, eyes slowly falling to the hand tightly wrapped around her throat. Hastily he released her and she slumped to his feet with her head bowed before him.

    "What has she done to you?"

    "I don't know what you're talking about." He snarled as he walked away from her.

    She scrambled to her feet and sprinted to catch up, keeping a good distance behind him to stay out of reach.

    "Do you... Lucifer, do you care about her?"

    He stopped and turned to face the little Demon. She froze, eyes boring into him accusingly.

    "No."

    "I thought the Devil wasn't one to lie." She stabbed a finger at his chest.

    "I'm not, Jezebel."

    "Then you're lying to yourself, Lucifer. I've never seen you so... defensive over a worthless creature before."

    His eyes flared again. It took all his strength to keep himself rooted and all restraint not to grab her throat. She wasn't right. He merely felt pity. A sense of understanding...

    That was all.

    "I don't have time for this." He turned away from her.

    "She isn't Genevieve, Lucifer."

    Lucifer froze. His body tensed as he stood rooted in place. Memories flooded him. Memories he'd tried to rid himself of. But he couldn't stop the flood of pain or the image of a broken body that once lied at his feet. Her white wings were stained scarlet as they hung from a tiny string of flesh from her shoulder blades. Her black curls were matted to her skull and her once emerald eyes were now pale and vacant within their sockets. God had stripped her of her wings in anger and damaged her brain to the point she was merely a living corpse. This was why he had rebelled. Nothing like the Bible had said. Nothing like his father had told those mortals to write. Lucifer had loved her. She was his first love and his last. God had become jealous of his fondness of the young Angel.

    Lucifer remembers quite clearly his father saying in a jealous rage, "-it is a sin to bow down to such a creature. I am your creator! I am your father! I am all that you need!"

    "I know you are always looking for another Genevieve." He felt a hand on his shoulder. "I understand your reasons, but you'll never fill that void. This... Angel can not replace or fill that empty spot you feel."

    He shoved her hand from his shoulder.

    "You will never understand, Jezebel. Never." He hissed between clenched teeth. "Ciela isn't a place holder or a void filler. I am helping her hide from my father. That is all. If I find her interesting or enjoyable, it is none of your concern."

    He left her where she stood. Is was none of her business what he did with Ciela. Nor was it her business if he decided to use Ciela to nurse ancient wounds. He'd never do such a thing, but it wasn't her job to control his decisions.

    He frowned as he walked down the narrow halls of the torture rooms. It was eerily silent as always. The rooms were soundproof. It would have drove Lucifer mad to hear their constant screams of agony on the regular. Whether they deserved it or not, he couldn't stand to hear it. Those screams reminded him often of a memory he'd been avoiding for millennia's. A memory Jezebel cruelly opened tonight. He had watched his father tear her wings from her back. He watched as his father damn the Angel he loved to nothing but a breathing, bleeding corpse. He had to watch. He was forced to watch as Gabriel and another Angel held him down and forced his head up to view the scene. Everything went black when they released him. Jezebel often reveled fondly of what he had done but could not remember. When he had blacked out, he'd killed one of the Angel's holding him and then tried to kill God Himself. Of course it was an idiotic attempt on his part. He just remembered being so angry, he didn't care whether he lived or died.

    For some reason God never killed him. Instead, he sent him to Hell. He locked him out of Heaven and sent him to do his dirty work torturing those who did not follow His rules. This was Lucifer's torture. He was forced to watch as his father tortured the one thing he cared of, and now it was his job to do the torturing.

    He couldn't bring himself to join his fellow Fallen to torture the mortals cast to their damnation. Instead, he turned back and luckily Jezebel was out of sight when he walked through. Although he wanted to do his duties, he couldn't bring himself to. He wanted nothing more than to hide from the world he was cursed to. He wanted to visit the mortal realm and try to drink away the memories. It would all be in vain. It was hard to get the Devil drunk. Being immortal had its perks and downsides. He considered this a downside. He'd only ever gotten drunk after a month of drinking. This led to Jezebel carrying him back to the underworld on her back and hearing his constant jabber with the passed out Succubus he had decided to bring with him.

    He pushed open the doors of his home and froze in utter shock. Ciela stood in the middle of the room, her torn chemise hanging off one shoulder as her wings draped limply behind her. She had his bed sheet loosely wrapped around herself and stood trembling in a sea of black.

    "What are you doing up, little Angel? I thought you would be asleep by now." He sighed, roughly scratching the back of his neck.

    "I-I couldn't." She shivered again. Her eyes were on her feet, completely avoiding him.

    He was confused, then it hit him. He was still the Devil. He looked down at his reflection and stared at it bitterly.

    "Ah, I see." He muttered as he glowered at himself.

    "You do?"

    "Who wouldn't be scared to look at me?" He growled out in agitation.

    "No. Lucifer, I-"

    "No, I understand."

    He watched bitterly as his eyes extinguished and turned brown. Scales soon began to flake and patches of flesh began to blossom pale and pink across his body. Soft wisps of hair tickled his newly grown face, shielding his face as he watched his tail shrivel up out of view.

    A brilliant light washed out his reflection and he had barely looked up before small fingers caressed his chin.

    "I'm not scared of your true face, Lucifer." She whispered, her wide eyes searching his desperately. "I-I'm more scared of crossing boundaries. I was actually coming to look for you."

    "You were?" He felt his ebbing anger distinguish, turning in to curiosity.

    "I wanted to apologize." She began, slowly withdrawing her hand. "This isn't your battle, Lucifer. You shouldn't put yourself in danger for me."

    He grabbed her hand before it could fall to her side. He didn't know why, but the memories of Genevieve were renewed. In her place Ciela now kneeled before him. Her blonde hair splattered across her shoulders, scarlet in fresh blood. Her emerald eyes blind and vacant as they stare back at him. Behind her, in a clump of feathers, blood and flesh, lied her stripped wings. He couldn't stand the image. It made him queasy as he held her hand in his. He couldn't let his father harm another innocent creature.

    "I have faced worse dangers than this, Ciela." He held her hand in both hands and caressed her palm with his thumbs. "I will protect you."

    "You don't have to, Lucifer. You don't even know me."

    "Does it matter?"

    "Should it, though?"

    He looked up into her eyes. He hadn't realized how much they had reminded him of Genevieve's until then. He felt his throat restrict as he lifted her hand to his lips and left a gentle kiss to her palm.

    "No. It shouldn't." He whispered against her skin. "I will not let another innocent creature befall the same damnation as I'd watched before. I just can't, little Angel."

    "Another?"

    He pulled her hand to his chest as his other hand brushed his knuckles against her cheek.

    "I won't let it happen. I won't." He cupped her cheek in his palm, holding her hand over his heart. "I'll protect you, Ciela. I promise."

    Fat golden tears welded and brimmed within her thick lashes as her lower lip began to twitch.

    "You hardly know me."

    "I can learn to know you."

    "Why?"

    Why? Why did he suddenly want this so badly? Was this his guilt? Was this his way of somehow freeing himself from an eternity of pain? Could saving her rid the void within himself? It couldn't. He knew that. But somehow this wasn't entirely just about Genevieve. This was about her. As strange as it sounded, he couldn't bare to just let her to fend for herself. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to be everything he couldn't be for Genevieve. He wanted to be everything Ciela needed. He knew that wouldn't free himself from his prison sentence, but he had hoped it would make it a little easier to bare if he knew he had a reason. One day, in these very torture rooms, he'd be able to torture the main man Himself. Until then, he will defy and help the one thing his father wanted. He will protect her. He will do whatever it takes.

    Jezebel might have been right, but it wasn't just for Genevieve. He saw something in Ciela's innocent gaze and how she trembled at the slightest touch. She was fragile. She was a butterfly, but he didn't want to touch her beautiful wings and ruin their flight. Maybe even like a flower. Her scent was potent and her beauty like a tulip, but he wouldn't dare to pluck her and let her wilt. So he'll do whatever he can to keep her that way. He couldn't just let her light die out. He couldn't just let her succumb to his fathers wishes.

    "I don't know." He couldn't tell if it was the truth or a lie. He knew, yet none of his reasons didn't feel like a good enough explanation for her. "Because I want to."

    She let out a hiccup and her eyes quickly fell just as a tear rolled down her cheek. He pulled her into his arms, awkwardly of course with her wings trembling behind her. Her body was warm and comforting in ways he never imagined. Her scent was a combination of apples and cinnamon as he rested his chin on top of her head. And her touch was soft and gentle as her hands clasped behind his neck. Somehow, after all these years, just then, he felt as if he had finally found his home.