The return of my senses finds me lying on my back on the ground. The sky above me is yellow, and a hot dry wind stirs the air, carrying the lifeless scent of dust.

When I sit up and glance around, I see an alien landscape of flat desert and impossibly high mountains of stone. A short distance to one side of me, a wide chasm yawns, stretching away like a black scar into the distance on either side.

I recognize this place, I realize. This is where Sakariel blew the silver horn in Damien's dream and started the rebellion that led him to his end.

Remembering why I'm in such a place, I scramble towards the edge of the chasm. Lying on my stomach, I lean over and scream into the void. "Dante!? Dante! I'll come back for you, Dante! I promise!"

A multitude of echoes send my words back to me like mocking laughter. Tears sting my eyes, and two drops fall silently into the dark.

A noise at my back makes me scramble up and turn, and what I see just about makes my heart stop.

Damien lies lifeless on the ground, and the gigantic demon stands over him.

"Hey! Get the fuck away from him!" I shout, struggling unsteadily to my feet. Dizziness swirls my brain like a mixologist stirring a cocktail, and I sway as I fight to keep my balance.

The demon holds a clawed hand towards me, as though in warning, and I realize I'm dangerously close to the chasm's edge. I try to hold steady but the ground seems to heave under my feet.

Before I have a chance to either plummet back into Hell or fall on my face, the Demon's long, disturbingly prehensile tail whips out and wraps around my waist, dragging me towards it.

It releases me and I fall in a heap beside Damien's body. He isn't breathing, and he's terribly pale and still. I look up at the demon. "What did you do?" I whisper. "Is he...?"

The demon doesn't answer. It's looking down at me from its massive height, grotesque face twisted in an expression I can't begin to read.

Then it dissolves before my eyes, turning into a swirling cloud of smoke and dust. In seconds, its entire form rapidly disintegrates into a dark, turbid mist.

Horrified, I watch as it pours itself into Damien's mouth and nose. A second later, he gasps and sits bolt upright, sucking in great lung-fulls of air. Gradually the color returns to his face. 

I've been frozen with shock, but when he turns towards me I fall back on my ass. "Wh--who are you? What have you done to Damien?" I stammer.

His face twists with pain.

"Alex...It's me," he says hoarsely. "I... That thing... it's me. My true from. I had to leave this body to manifest like that. I... I'm sorry. I never wanted you to see me...like that."

I stare at him, brain gears locked, and then my mind unsticks and I throw myself at him. He catches me, surprised, and then hugs me back. I start to cry with the kind of sobs that hurt and make it hard to breathe. He holds me, stroking my hair and making soothing sounds.

"Hey, hey--stop now, Alex," he says. "Stop. I know. I'm so sorry. We'll get Dante back. We'll get them back, if there's any way in the heavens or hells, we'll get them back. I promise."

Gradually, my sobs subside into hiccups, and finally just quiet tears.

"Why didn't you go back?" I whisper against his chest.

"I wanted to, Alex," he says, the pain and regret in his voice leaving me no doubt he means it. "I wanted to, but I couldn't. Not without dooming us all. I had to get you out of there. Dante knew we were taking a chance. They knew the risk, and they took it gladly--for you, Alex. If I'd gone back then, that sacrifice would have been in vain. We owe their courage more respect than to throw away the chance they gave us so easily."

I know he's right, but I still hate it.

"We'll rescue them, right though? We'll get them back?"

He hugs me a little tighter. "We'll do everything we can. But right now we have to get you away from here and back to Carnâk. We'll regroup and plan our next move from there.

He stands and pulls me to my feet. I look around at the bleak, almost colorless landscape. It's almost beautiful, in a terrible, desolate way.

"Where is this, anyway?" I ask.

"It's a place without a name," Damien answers. "You could think of it as similar to what humans call Purgatory--an in-between, or liminal space, on the edge of things. Basically, it's nowhere. It's one of only a few places where I can enter Hell using my true form."

He looked down at me, worry creasing his brow.

"I'm sorry I frightened you," he says. "Now you see why so many Fallen prefer to possess a body. It's hard to make friends when you look like a--what did you call me?--a gargoyle."

I pull him back against me. "I don't care what you look like," I say. "Although, I guess I do prefer you like this," I add.

I feel his arms tighten around me. "Are you ready?" he asks. "I know you're still weak, but we can't linger here. This route was a well-kept secret, but Azael has his own roads, and will waste no time coming after us."

"I'm ready," I nod, and shut my eyes.

Maybe where we are is farther away than the other places we've traveled to, or harder to leave somehow, but it seems like the shift takes a lot longer than usual.

When the world finally comes into focus once more, and I find myself in Allannan's courtyard in Carnâk, I'm wracked by intense nausea and dizziness, and can do nothing but lie curled on the ground in a ball of misery. Someone presses a damp cloth to my forehead and face, and gentle hands rub my back.

Eventually, the feeling of sickness passes, and I'm able to open my eyes and sit up.

I'm a little dismayed to see how many people are gathered around, watching me be wretched. Allannan is there at my side, and so is Damien.

And so, to my alarm, are Oran and his Vanguard, but Damien lays a reassuring hand on my arm.

"They're here to help, Alex. They were instrumental in your rescue. They won't harm you. Oran has given me his word."

Oran nods down at me, and I return the greeting warily.

"We're so sorry about Dante, Alex," Allannan says, laying a gentle hand on my arm. "But we're also very happy you're safe."

I give her a weary smile. "Thanks. And Dante's not lost," I say. "We'll get them back."

Her smile is sad, but she nods before rising to her feet.

"You two should get some rest," she says. "I expect we will hear some demand from Azael soon, and in the meantime we must gather what strength we can."

~xxx~

In our home, I see reminders of Dante everywhere: their favorite Carnâki liquor, gifts from their numerous 'admirers,' unfinished paintings, and even the mess they left in the kitchen makes me expect to see them step around a corner at any moment. When they don't, the twin worms of guilt and worry burrow a little deeper into my heart.

When I'm clean and dressed in my own clothes, Damien forces me to eat and drink. Anxiety has stolen my appetite, but he insists.

"You're no good to Dante if you've got no strength. Eat," he demands, pushing a plate of stew my way. Somehow, I manage to finish it. Then he pours me a large splash of Dante's treasured liquor and one for himself.

"To Dante," he says, and throws it back. "May we be reunited soon."

"To Dante," I echo faintly, and drain my glass. It burns all the way down.

Then Damien takes me to bed.

I let him undress me, then lie back as he sheds his own clothes. He kneels over me and runs his hands over my body as though searching for some mark or sign.

"Did Azael touch you?" he asks in a breathless growl.

"No," I shake my head. "I think he meant to, soon enough. But he'd only made me see his dreams so far. Did you know he had a daughter with Astoreth?"

Damien's hands still in surprise. "No," he says. "I knew they'd been lovers, but I had no idea a child had come of it."

"She was a Key," I say thoughtfully. "Astoreth used her to open the Door to the Throne."

"That's...awful. No wonder he hates her."

"You have no idea," I say, remembering the intensity of that hate.

Damien leans over me and kisses my mouth. He tastes like the strange, spicy liquor. "Don't think of that right now," he says. "In fact, don't think at all."

He starts to make love to me with gentle care, the way he might handle a precious and fragile treasure. I feel his love in every kiss and caress, in every stroke of his hand. But that's not what I need to feel right now.

"Damien," I gasp against his lips when he lets me come up for air. "Fuck me. Make me know I'm yours."

He searches my eyes, brushing his fingers over my face. "Is that what you want? You're sure?"

"Yes...don't make me beg."

He nods and then flips me over, dragging me up by my hips. He prepares me quickly, then readies himself. He pauses, and I feel him pressed against me. I'm shivering with anticipation and can barely hold myself up on my elbows.

"Damien...please," I breathe.

In one smooth motion, he pushes inside, seating himself firmly to the root. I gasp and push back against him, reveling in the familiar burn and stretch, the feeling of almost unbearable fullness.

When he pulls back and thrusts again, a cry escapes my lips and he stops, hands stroking over my back.

"Alex? Are you alright?" he asks.

I can barely get my tongue to form words, but manage to gasp out a few. "God, yes. Don't stop, Damien--please don't stop."

He starts to rock back and forth, and pretty soon the only sounds coming out of my mouth are incoherent moans and sobs.

Just when I can't bear it anymore, he takes my aching length in his hand and just about kills me with the pleasure that seizes me in its blinding white grip.

No wonder the French call it la petite mort.

At the same time, I feel him stiffen and gasp as he spills himself inside me.

We collapse together in a breathless heap, and I'm barely conscious when, after a moment, he rises and returns with a soft, damp cloth and gently cleans my skin. 

He crawls back beside me and draws the covers over us both, taking me in his arms and pulling me close. He kisses my forehead with a gentle press of his lips.

"Is that what you needed?" he asks.

I nod sleepily and sigh. "Just the thing."

"Then I'm glad I could help," he smiles. "Now get some sleep. Tomorrow will come soon enough, and then we'll figure out how to get Dante back."

"I'll save them, Damien" I mumble. "If it's the last thing I do."

"I know you will, Alex," he whispers, arms tightening around me. "That's why I love you. And what makes me most afraid."