That night, I share Damien's dreams once more.

I'm alone in a darkness deeper than any night, but I'm on my way towards something more, and my heart burns with a strange emotion.

After a moment I recognize it.

Hope.

There have been whispers--rumors spread in the dark--for a long time now. They say that someone--a Celestial, of all things--wants to abolish the age-old laws that keep the Fallen below, and forbid us from wandering the Earthly Realms or entering the Heavens. Some of us have joined him already, and I've decided to throw my lot in as well.

I crawl and climb my way up from the unknown depths, and then take flight, winging my way upward through the dark.

At long last, I arrive, and I am afraid--terrified--that the person I seek will look at me and see a monster, and send me back.

I approach, and he turns, and I feel like I've taken a spear through the heart.

I've never seen a Celestial before, though I'd heard they are beautiful. This person is more than beautiful. They are beauty personified. He's almost as tall as I am and seems to be male. His figure is almost human, except for his impossible height and perfection of form, and the fact that his skin is like gold. From his back sprout great wings, but they are nothing like my own leathery appendages. They are feathered, and a lovely mottled gray like those of an owl. He looks at me, and his unearthly green eyes go wide.

"Who...are you?" he asks, coming towards me.

"I am Dantalian," I say, looking down at my hoof-like feet. "I am Fallen."

He stops in front of me, and I flinch as he raises a hand. "Dantalian," he touches my face gently. "I am Sakariel, and we are the same."

In that moment, I fall in love; and to my surprise, it hurts more than anything I've experienced so far.

Sakariel takes my hands, and I watch as he gradually begins to shift and change, and a moment later he's been replaced by another person entirely. The only thing that stays the same is his eyes.

It's a weird sensation, but I see myself as Damien sees me, and the pain is even worse when he falls in love again.

~xxx~

In the morning, I wake still wrapped in his arms. We lie on our sides, facing one another, and he's already awake. He's propped up on one hand, while the other rubs gentle circles on my back. He smiles when I open my eyes and leans down to kiss them each.

"You were crying again," he says softly. "What did you dream this time?"

I look up at him, remembering what he felt in the dream, and wonder if he feels that way even now.

"It hurts, the way you love me," I say softly.

His brows pinch with concern.

"Was I too rough?" He asks, not understanding.

"Not that," I laugh, though it's a wet, teary sound. "I mean...you. The way you feel. It hurts. I don't think love is supposed to hurt that much."

His smile is tinged with old pain. "It is when it's something you never thought you'd feel. Never thought you could feel, or even deserved to feel. More than that, when it's something you believed no one could ever possibly feel for you."

As I watch the shadows in his dark eyes, I realize something.

"I haven't said it," I say.

"What?"

"I love you, Damien Knight."

His eyes go wide, and then he leans down and kisses me. I feel the scratch of the stubble on his chin against mine, and the whisper of his breath on my skin. His tongue darts along the part of my lips, and I open them, granting him entry.

He rubs his thumb over the small pink circles on my chest. I've never really liked that before, but when he does it, it sends an electric shock straight to my groin. I'm already half hard, and that takes me the rest of the way.

Shifting himself to lie over me, he moves a hand down and takes us both in his firm grip. He slides his hand up and down over us and thrusts his tongue into my mouth with the same rhythm.

I'm overwhelmed with sensation, and an almost embarrassingly short time later, I arch my back and feel my muscles seize as the pleasure builds at the base of my spine and then explodes. A few more strokes and he reaches the same summit and casts himself over the edge, collapsing on me with shuddering breaths.

I feel his heartbeat gradually slow along with mine, and our breath settles. After a minute or so, he raises himself on his elbows and looks down at me. A little smile quirks his lips, and he says, "I love you, too, Alex Shade."

"Yeah, I gathered that," I laugh, and push him off me. "Come on. We better clean up, or we're gonna stick together."

~xxx~

As we bathe and dress, my mood gradually darkens as guilt bares its little teeth and starts to gnaw at me again. How could I lie in bed with Damien, enjoying the safety and pleasure of my lover's arms, while Dante...

While Dante endured who-knows-what at Azael's hands.

The thought makes my breath catch, and I lean my hands against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut as though that will stop the runaway train of my imagination.

Damien correctly interprets my distress and comes to lay his hand on my back.

"Hey, Alex," he says softly. "Dante wouldn't grudge us a moment of happiness--of comfort. They'd be happy for us."

My throat works to swallow over the tightness squeezing it like a hand, but I know he's right. I turn and wrap my arms around his back, laying my head on his shoulder.

"You're right," I whisper. "They'd just be sorry they weren't here to watch."

He chuckles, then stills. "Alex, um...Once we rescue them...you're not gonna let them do that, right? Because I love Dante, but..."

Now it's my turn to laugh. "No. Dante can take care of their own voyeurism. They don't need us...for that," I add.

"Right," he says, sounding relieved. "Well, then. While you were getting dressed, a messenger came by. It seems Azael has made his demand. Let's go see what he wants, and then we'll make our plans.

~xxx~

At Allannan's court, we join a group of people whose ranks and positions I can't begin to guess. I probably met them at some party or state function along the way, but I never paid much attention, and I don't waste it on them now.

I follow Damien to the front of the room, where Allanan and Oran stand next to a pedestal, on which rests a small bundle of cloth.

"Alex, Damien," Allannan greets us with a nod. "Thank you for joining us." Her face is grim.

She goes on, addressing the court as a whole. "This morning, Azael sent a messenger bearing his warnings and demands. I shall read them now."

She opens a folded letter and begins to read.

" 'I, Azael, make the following demands of Carnâk and it's people: that you remain neutral in all future conflict between myself and the Earthly and Heavenly Realms, and that you allow me and any who walk beneath my banner safe and unobstructed passage through your domain.''

That didn't sound so bad, and I start to breathe a sigh of relief, but Damien puts a hand to my back, and when I glance at his face I see an expression so grim it freezes my heart.

Allannan reads on.

"'Of the individuals known as Damien Knight, née, Dantalian, and Alex Shade, I demand the following: that they submit themselves to me at the provided location immediately. For every hour that they do not comply, I will take payment in the same measure of which I have sent you a sample. If they do not comply by the time the supply of such samples runs out, I will launch an attack on Carnâk such that it has no hope to resist, and none shall be spared the pain of death. I await your answer. Signed, Azael, Lord of the Seventh Circle, Commander of the Legions of Hell.'"

Allannan pauses for breath, chest rising and falling with emotion and duress.

"What did he send?" Damien says, asking what I cannot.

Allannan slowly unwraps the cloth on the pedestal and reveals what it contains. It looks like a thin, coiled snake.

I feel the bile rise in my throat as I recognize it for what it is: a strip of Dante's beautiful, dark skin.