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[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

Date: December 25, 1999
Setting: Manor Library
Status: Private - Belial and Gabriel (Complete)
Summary: Belial makes his decision.
Rating:



The yellowing pages and musty smell of old leather reminded him of nothing so much as Aziraphale's bookshop. The memories seemed tarnished now, tainted around the edges with the garish haze of Hellfire, but still he could not help but remember his occasional teas with the other angel fondly. His eyes trailed over the chocolates Aziraphale had left him before settling instead on the glass of brandy at his side.

He flipped the page with shiftless thoughts.

A puff of dust, and a familiar passage: 'But for corruption thou hast made Belial, an angel of hostility. All his dominions are in darkness, and his purpose is to bring about wickedness and guilt.'

Well, he'd certainly been doing well enough on that account.

Gabriel sipped again at his drink, staunchly ignoring the warmth in his stomach that stemmed partially from the alcohol and even more from the intrusive memories of Belial's lips on his skin. He skimmed over the words analyzing the passage from the Dead Sea Scrolls, grew suddenly bored, and turned the page once more. Hundreds of scholars and theologists, believers and disbelievers alike, had spent centuries of man trying to describe Belial, and none of them seemed to have been able to pin him down any more easily than Gabriel could in his befuddled thoughts. They called him Lucifer's Crown, detailed how he was a seducer with a smile like poison for the soul or a fierce warrior with the head of a bull.

Not a single entry mentioned glitter.

He turned to another page, his gaze wandering idly over the faded text as he sifted through the words of others as well as his own reeling consciousness.

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[lordofthesouth.livejournal.com]

A choked answer bubbled on Belial's tongue, but he had no words to put to the meaning. His jaw ached with the overflowing emotion. It was a journey of footsteps, one after another, spanning the sandy, desolate wastes of his existence. A trail through the desert, droplets of water drying, clumped dun pearls, in the sand; he could hardly explain to Gabriel how each memory and hope had kept him sound and sane for so long.

"Gabriel," he said, a name more beautiful in their milk-tongue than any mortal language. It was painful to heave the celestial sounds from his throat, his body and being unable to grasp the task it undertook, but they were melodious and flowed like oozing honey. "The Father created hate, created avarice, created death. Lucifer did not invent sin."

Closing his eyes, he shook at Gabriel's touch. His knees dug uncomfortably into the floor and his mouth was dry. Shoulders hunched. "There can be no suffering that does not make the bite of happiness more keen."

Belial bit his lip, weighing his words carefully. "Love was the one balm granted to me for what pain I needed endure. Lucifer could not remake me, in that, no matter how he tried, with all his strings and wires and nimble fingers. It is my blessing and burden to know this love."

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

The celestial language on Belial's lips hurt, took hold in his heart and wrenched in ways that he could not have expected. Fresh tears stung his vision at the sight of Belial, lost to him for so long, with such Heaven in his eyes; the demon's words inspired in him such sweet madness, and Gabriel felt as though he was drowning in darkness and, with movements stiff and painful from inactivity, had only just taken the first, faltering steps towards an unknown light.

He placed his hand along Belial's jaw, sweeping a thumb gently over the lips that spun such words of silk.

"And how long - " he began, but found his voice too weak to continue. It felt childish, having no response but wondering questions in the face of such epic words, but it was too much to comprehend, too much to wrap his thoughts around so quickly. He took a shuddering breath, asked quietly, "How long have you felt this - this burden?"

[lordofthesouth.livejournal.com]

"Since Creation began," Belial gasped with the truth of it against Gabriel's hand.

He sounded as music, throat limbering as he remembered how to speak. "I have loved you since the first mote of light was spun from the Creator and all was bathed in its fair light."

His heart did not--could not--suffer spilling forth to Gabriel quietly. It thrummed in his ears, staccato, terrified that he might be cast down again for his sins.

Little kisses; he placed them all along Gabriel's hand. His emotions were surreal to him; six thousand years of desperation and denial had left him somewhat disconnected. Detached. Watching himself love through his own eyes.

Gabriel brought his mind hurtling back to where it belonged. Everything seemed brighter, sharper, and he groaned with it.