by Taylor Law
And then… he was back in Heaven once more.
He hadn’t known what to expect, but what he'd felt was beyond his wildest imaginings. Each touch, every kiss, all of it - he could not find the words to describe such a thing except beautiful, marvelous, satisfying, amazing. He was in awe.
Brandon stirred and pressed a chaste kiss to the center of his chest before looking up at him.
“Hello, Little Raven. How are you feeling?”
“Better. I’m still really confused and scared.” He snuggled deeper. “I don’t feel like I’ve lost my mind anymore and when I am right here, I feel safe.”
“You should. Nothing could get to you without going through me first.” He smiled down at Bran, and received a small one in return but it quickly died.
Brandon’s eyes had filled with fear again, but this time Sam knew it was not of him. Bran whispered. “Sammy? You said you would help, right? Protect me?”
“Yes, I did.”
Bran cleared his throat and looked away. “Umm…you’re…uh...still gonna, right?”
Samael’s chest ached and his throat closed up. “I give you my word, I will not leave you. No matter what comes, we shall face it together.”
The smile Brandon gave him could have lit up the entire bedroom. This night was just full of gifts. Sam’s heart felt as if it would burst.
They lay there for a while longer, stroking each other’s skin. There was nothing sexual about it, but it was wonderful in its own right. Samael’s stomach broke the silence, growling out its discomfort at being empty for so long.
Bran laughed. “I guess I should feed you. We need to keep up your strength.”
“It has been quite a while since our lunch, but I'm enjoying this so much that I don’t want to move.”
Brandon gave him a grin and then shifted, pulling on Sam’s hand. “Come on. We can come back once we’ve had some dinner.”
They both pulled on some loose shorts – Sam’s actually fit this time – and moved to the kitchen.
****
Brandon pulled some sandwich fixings out of the fridge. There was no way he was in the mood to cook, and it was too late for any of the take-out places to be open. He did feel better. He could have sworn for a minute there that he was going to wake up in an insane asylum. He knew he probably looked like elephant dung; his guyliner running, forming raccoon eyes – which were probably red and puffy, face all blotchy. Not that he gave a flying fuck, and Sam didn’t seem to either. It was probably a testament to how worried Sam was that he wasn’t ragging on him; giving him some shit in return for their shopping trip.
He hated crying, and avoided it at all cost, especially in front of other people. This time, though, it just happened, and he felt like a teapot whistle had blown and relieved some of the pressure. What the tears didn’t handle, the sex took care of. Holy fuckoli was that was great!
If he could just not be scared of what tomorrow would bring, he would feel like himself again. The promise Sammy had made helped a lot. He seemed like his word meant the world to him, and looked pleased to give it.
At least one of them was pleased. Brandon was not happy with himself one bit. He was such a pussy and showed it tonight, blubbering like a girl. Ugh! It was pathetic. He knew he couldn’t help himself, and it was his body’s way of coping, but still. Then to be all, ‘protect me daddy,’ with Sam, but he wasn’t stupid. He was the kid that got the swirlies, the one who got beat up and bullied; but even if he wasn’t, these were demons. Hello. Fuck no, thank you very much.
Sam watched him as he made the sandwiches - good old peanut butter and jelly on white, yum - but it didn’t seem as if he was curious about the correct way to cut bread. “Will you stop, please?” Bran froze. What was Sammy not hungry anymore?
“You were in shock. The body reacts to that differently for each person, but it's never pleasant. Stop chastising yourself, for it.”
Bran blushed, a deep red and hid his eyes with his bangs. Shit! Damn, stupid, over expressive face.
Samael grabbed his chin to force his face up. “You pulled yourself out of it fairly quickly, that takes strength. Your body dealt with the issues and resolved them. That is nothing to be embarrassed about.” His angel gave him a peck on the mouth. “Let us eat.”
What a freckin’ cool guy! Bran had felt like shit. Sam told him it was okay and why, and then let it go so as not to add to his embarrassment. Brandon didn’t know what he’d done to deserve to meet Samael, but whatever it was, he had to thank his lucky stars.
****
Chapter 8
Sam followed Brandon to the small couch, smiling his success the whole way. He felt somewhat guilty being happy at the man’s discomfort, but he was very pleased with himself all the same. He had been studying Bran and was finally able to decipher the minute nuances of his features, to predict what he was thinking. His first guess was correct. He did not like that Bran was embarrassed, but he understood it. If he had shown weakness in front of another, he would be disappointed in himself as well. He let it go, but inside he was gloating a little.
Samael sat beside Brandon and took the plate he was handed. “So, what is the name for this?” He pulled the slices of bread apart and sniffed. It smelled delicious.
“Peanut butter and strawberry jelly.” Bran smiled and took a big bite of his own sandwich. Sam followed suit and found it tasted as good as it smelled.
They ate in companionable silence for a while, before talking about the project that Brandon was working on. A knock at the door froze them both.
A short glance at Brandon showed that he was looking at Samael, eyes wide with fear. He was obviously not expecting company. Sam put his plate on the coffee table.
“Bedroom. Hide,” he growled, and Bran darted off, shutting himself in the room.
Samael was just standing when the door crashed in, breaking the frame and banging against the wall before coming to a stop half off its hinges. Three armed men strode through: Asmodeus, some human that he had never seen before, and …
“Gadreel?”
Sam reached for the Demon Dagger, but realized it was not on him. He had left it in the bedroom, thinking it wasn’t needed.
“Hello Samael. What a pleasure it is to see you.” The angel’s smile was all teeth, saying without words, that it was no pleasure at all. Sam was right there with him on that.
He narrowed his eyes at his enemy. “What are you doing here, Gadreel?” He had been asking that question a lot, as of late.
The human answered instead, dipping his head toward Gadreel and flashing the gun in his hand. “Master C is here in person to collect the money he is owed.”
Money? The twenty thousand dollars. Shit! Everything slammed into his head at once, like a fast moving picture slide show. He remembered it all. The entirety of what he had discovered, or Brandon had told him, fit themselves together into a psychotic puzzle in his mind; one that he'd not had all of the pieces to, until now.
“Carlos, Chris. I saw Carlos, and two more of Master C’s goons. No, let me rephrase that, I saw their fists and guns.”
“So, he told me to call the man he got the drugs from, said he would loan me the cash.”
“Your father is coming to get you.”
“I don’t know who he is, never met him.”
“His father. His father wants him, so he set up a situation where Brandon would have no choice.”
“No!” It was not possible.
Gadreel laughed evilly, walking to the window by the couch. “You always were too smart for your own good, Sam.”
“You’re...you’re his father?”
“That’s right. Brandon is my flesh and blood. You know what they say, ‘like father like son.’” The angel had a sneer on his face, while his two companions were snickering.
That was a fabrication of the highest degree. His Little Raven was nothing like Gadreel. Nothing. Bran was good, and loyal, and selfless. Gadreel was the complete opposite of those things.
�
��What do you want with him?” Sam snapped, trying to keep all of the men and their weapons in his line of sight simultaneously.
“Well, that is very simple.” The angel leaned back against the window, and crossed his arms. “He is mine.” Sam’s hackles rose. Brandon was his not Gadreel’s. “Bran is Nephilim, and has gifts that will come in quite handy to me. It is time he thanked me for giving him life, and used them in loyalty to me. Besides,” Gadreel broke away from the window and walked to the center of the room. “He has been without his father for far too long, poor fellow. It’s more than time he got to know his dear old dad.”
No! This was not happening. Gadreel had taken everything from him; he was not going to take Brandon too.
The angel made a motion with his hand and the two, armed men surrounded Samael, their handguns directed at his head. Sam looked at Asmodeus. The demon seemed wary, as he should be. “You remember what I said to you, A?” Sam whispered.
Fear filled Asmodeus’ eyes. Oh, he remembered all right. “Don’t Sam. You are only human now.” He sounded firm and sure, but the hand holding the gun was trembling slightly.
“You will be the first.” Sam growled at him quietly. He almost expected the demon to piss his pants. Human or not, Asmodeus was afraid of him. Rightly so.
“Brandon!” Gadreel shouted. “Come out here boy.”
“No, Bran, stay where you are.” Sam yelled in reply.
Gadreel stared at him, eyebrows furrowed. “We have Samael at gunpoint, Bran. We will shoot him if you don't show yourself.”
Sam cursed. Brandon was too loyal not to respond to that threat, and he knew it.
“Calm down,” the angel directed at Sam. “It’s not as if this place is big. We would find him anyway.”
He knew that was the truth, but he’d hoped he could stop them in time; even if his death was the price. Samael was probably the only being he knew that held no fear of Death. Not that he wanted to go yet, he did not want to leave Bran like that.
A minute later, Brandon came out of the bedroom and solemnly walked directly toward him. He was fully dressed now. As he approached, the other men backed away slightly, still aiming their weapons at Sam.
Bran stepped up beside him, and reached around placing a hand at the small of Sam’s back. There was something in it. The Demon Dagger! The blind faith the man showed was humbling. He just hoped he didn't let his Little Raven down.
As inconspicuously as possible, he shoved the blade down the back of Samael’s shorts, while speaking to their captors. “What do you want?”
“Ah, Brandon. Good to finally meet you, son.” The ‘son’ comment had Sam flinching.
Bran raised his chin in defiance. “Who are you and what do you want from me?”
“I am Master C and you, my dear boy, owe me a lot of money. Now, I know you don't have it. Carlos, here,” he indicated the human with a tilt of his head, “has told me as much; but seeing as it has recently come to my attention that you are my child, I'm willing to overlook it.”
The angel allowed the words to sink in for a minute before continuing. “On one condition. You come work for me.”
Brandon pushed his hair off his face – which Sam knew was significant because it was always in his eyes when he was nervous – then his Little Raven looked at him and held his gaze. Samael used his newfound ability to read the man’s expressions. He told him without words that he had heard everything from the bedroom, and he was not going with Gadreel. I would rather die than go with that evil man. What is your plan, Sam? Let’s do something. Let’s get out of here. I am staying with you no matter what. We fight this together remember? Together!
Right! The private conversation was just what Samael needed. He bolstered his courage and turned back toward their enemy, slowly sliding his hand behind him to grasp the hilt of the dagger.
Bran tipped his chin down, hiding his face once more, and then turned to the angel. “So, you're my father?”
Gadreel latched on to that; anything to get what he wanted. “That’s right, Brandon. No one here is going to hurt you. You come with me, and we'll get to know each other.” Gadreel schooled his expression into one of regret. Man, was he good. “I am so very sorry that I have not been there for you. I didn’t know about you until recently, but we can change all of that.”
Brandon slowly stepped toward Gadreel, drawing everyone’s attention to himself. Damn, but his man had some balls. Asmodeus had lowered his weapon slightly, and the human now had his pointed somewhere around the couch. Both of the men split their focus between the protection of their boss, and Samael. Their boss was winning. Stupid, very stupid.
“What about the money?” Bran was now a few feet away from the angel, and Sam was slowly edging his way toward the other two men in the room.
Gadreel gave a flick of his hand. “If you come with me, you’ll have all the money you want. The amount you owe, well, let’s just consider it a bonus.”
“What could I possibly do for you?” Almost there, almost.
“Your dreams…”
Just then, Samael moved - thrusting the dagger through Asmodeus’ heart, and then spinning to the human. He knew the blessing on the blade would do its work, and the demon would be down. As he turned, he flung his left hand up, capturing the muzzle of the gun, pushing it upward and setting it off in the ceiling. At the same time, his right hand brought the dagger up and in an arch, slicing the human’s throat. He felt no remorse. That’s what you get for putting your hands on his Little Raven!
In seconds, both of them were dead, and Sam was facing Gadreel.
It was not quick enough.
Gadreel had changed; his huge silver wings nearly the length of the room. He didn’t deserve to wear silver; they should be black, as dark as his soul.
The angel had Brandon pulled up against his chest, a blade to his throat.
“Nice, Samael. I see you haven’t lost your skill.”
“Release him Gadreel. It’s over.” Samael started toward them, but heard a hiss come from Bran that froze him in place.
Brandon was standing on the tips of his toes, a large forearm wrapped across his neck. The blade pierced him, just under his right ear and a small amount of blood was beading there. Sam could throw his dagger, but he did not have much room to work with and was afraid to hit Bran instead. He didn't even know if the Demon Dagger would work on Gadreel. Technically, he was still an angel. Barely.
Some help would be nice right now. He thought out toward the heavens, not really expecting an answer.
Bran released the forearm he was holding onto for balance, and pushed his hair back. Samael looked him in the eye. The man’s face said, “Get ready.”
Gadreel was sneering at him, “Samael, you know better than that, there is nothing you can do to stop me. That dagger in your hand will not work on me.”
“Are you so sure of that Gadreel?”
“I am an angel.” He spat at Sam.
“A technicality I am sure will be remedied forthwith.” Samael replied calmly. “Your soul is as evil as any demon’s, I am sure the blessing will be able to tell that. Are you willing to risk it, Gadreel? Are you willing to risk the Seventh level of Hell?”
The angel’s uncertainty was plain and he roughly pulled Bran closer to him. “I’ll kill him, Sam.”
Samael glanced at Brandon’s face again. It said, “Now!”
Bran reached behind himself and squeezed the angel’s balls, hard. In reaction, Gadreel pushed him away with a shout, still holding Bran's arm, but leaving himself wide open. Samael threw the blade with all the force he could, strengthened by his anger at Gadreel, by his fear for Brandon’s safety, by all of the things that were taken from him. The dagger flew swift and true, and buried itself in the center of the angel’s chest.
Gadreel released Brandon completely, and his Little Raven flew at him. Sam hugged him close and watched the angel, waiting to see if the blessing would take him from this plain, or if it would not have any effect on him at all.
At first, nothing happened. Gadreel who had been staring at the dagger in horror, focused on Sam with a big grin on his face and started to chuckle. Suddenly, his silver wings started to darken, slowly losing their radiance; becoming a soft grey that grew and deepened until it was a rich black. The angel’s features rearranged themselves as the amusement disappeared, replaced by fear.
“No. Noooo!”
As they watched, a stark light flared out from the Demon Dagger in Gadreel’s chest. He startled, and reached for the hilt, tugging and pulling, trying to wrench the thing from him. The light enveloped him, and with a final flash, he disappeared.
The only thing remaining to remind them of what had happened that night was the dagger on the floor, and the human lying dead on the carpet. The two demons were gone, transported to their eternity. Sam never had to deal with Gadreel again.
Samael gazed down into Brandon’s face. “You were so courageous and strong. I am very proud of you.”
The smile he received from the praise was glorious. Sam leaned down to kiss Bran and as their lips touched, a cough interrupted them.
They startled apart. Samael pushed Brandon behind him and faced the danger. There in front of them were Raphael and Michael. They stood there gawking at the two angels for a moment.
Mike was the one to pull him out of his stupor. “Hey, buddy.”
Sam snapped. “Now? You arrive now? I could have used your help a little while ago, you know.”
His friends were both chagrined. Raph was the one to respond. “We weren’t permitted to help you. That was something you had to do on your own.”
Of course it was. “What brings you here, then?”
