Angel

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Condemned ....

The choir was singing, his last flight as one their own. Flight? This wasn't a flight, it was a fall ... and he would fall forever.

Who knew it would be you? Gently, he trailed his fingers across the fine lines of his charge's face, caressing as much as he dared. Eyelids fluttered in a paranoia that even time could not erase. A soft hum filled the air as he lifted his own voice to join the angelic choir, red streaked feathers rustling in the darkness, intertwining and embracing the figure who slept so fitfully.

Sinner ...

And if he was? Who cared? He had paid for his real sins, hadn't he? Hell's Angel for as long as he could remember ... before they set him free to sing with the saints. Skill was skill, and heaven needed the talent of someone who had spent an eternity beguiling with the smile of a cat and the charm of an incubus. Sent from hell to heaven to earth ... All for you ...

Cursed ...

But he had lost, failed. The young, cold leader hadn't been the one to fall, the one to soften and warm under another's light. He had ... to the same person he had been sent to save ... if you could call it salvation ...

Blasphemer ...

Me!? Me of all people ... fell in love ... God/Satan ... shit, why me? Did he really whimper then? Why him?!

The choir raised it's voice, rebuking, cold, heartless in their freedom and grace ...

Want to be ... Can't be ... One of US ...

Blood and death, seduction and lies, the red that stained his wings. Why did they set him free? I don't care, he thought firmly, burying his nose in the back of his lover's neck, feeling the smooth skin rub against his own rough scars.

Flawed ...

No, he didn't, didn't care. For some reason, as he stared at the angelic face of his charge, smoothed into peace by peace, the thought finally rang true. He didn't care. Not one tiny bit. It had all been for him after all. All the pain and torment and insecurity.

Oh, Reno ...

All for you, Rufus.

And even if this was all there was ... it was enough ...

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