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Chapter Text

     It took every ounce of restraint Kyra possessed to keep from cursing at her bad luck.  A simple stop for gas had turned into a bloodbath when an angel walked in the store and spotted her.

     There were a few silver linings, though.  At least no civilians had gotten hurt.  The fight had ended almost as soon as it started, but she couldn’t afford to linger; that pesky angel might’ve gotten a call for help out before she killed it.  The last thing she needed was to have the Host swarming around her.

     Sighing to herself, she snapped her fingers, sending her car to Uncle Bobby’s house before taking off, flying to Gabriel’s safe house.  It was well over a thousand miles from the scene, so the distance would help throw off any angels that might be searching for her.

     When she arrived, Gabriel was sitting in the kitchen, eating his way through a five pound Hershey bar.  “Hey, Gabe.”

     She opened the refrigerator and grabbed a jug of apple juice, tossing the cap aside and drinking straight from the jug.  Normally, she would’ve gotten a glass, but she was fucking thirsty, and more than likely the juice wouldn’t last for another five minutes.

     Gabriel leapt out of his chair, his eyes wide as he rushed over to her.  “What happened to your arm?!”

     The question made Kyra glance down.  Huh…her adrenaline was running so high, she’d barely noticed the gash in her left forearm.  The wound was bleeding freely and glowing gold with her Grace, thanks to the now-dead angel and his stupid blade.

     “Just some stupid angel,” she shrugged, taking another swig of juice.  “He didn’t live to brag about it.”

     “Why didn’t you call me?” he demanded, grabbing her wounded arm with surprising gentleness to examine the wound more closely.

     “I had it covered, Gabe.”  Honestly, she’d gotten more serious injuries on hunts; this didn’t worry her.  “This?  This is nothing.”

     “But it could’ve been worse!” he exclaimed, running a hand across the wound to heal it.  The expression on his face was more concerned than she’d ever seen him.

     “But it wasn’t.”  She frowned at her forefather; something wasn’t right.  “Why are you so upset, anyway?  I thought you wanted your dirty little secret to stay a secret.  It’s kind of a giveaway that you’re my forefather if you show up to protect me.”

     “Kyra, look…I don’t want Heaven to know about this, yes…but I don’t wanna lose you, either.  I can’t…not after…”

     The sudden tears in his eyes alarmed her; he had never shown this kind of emotion or vulnerability to her before.  “Gabriel…what are you not telling me?”

     Her quiet question seemed to shake him back to the present as he took a step back.  “I already told you everything.”

     Even without the years of dealing with the Winchesters, it was easy to see he was lying.  “No, you didn’t.  I can tell…you’re holding something back.”

     “No, Kyra.  I-I told you…”

     She set down the jug and rested a hand on his shoulder.  Her voice was soft as she said, “Gabe…tell me the truth.  I can handle it.”

     “I…”  He swallowed hard, his expression pained.  “I told you I left Heaven, but…Dad wasn’t the one that gave the order on nephilim.  It was Michael.”

     She froze, stunned.  “What?”

     “Michael…he wasn’t the same after Dad left,” he explained.  “It hit him hardest—suddenly, he was the one responsible for running Heaven, being in charge of the Host.  And it was a lot of pressure…too much.  Then, when the first nephilim were born…see, all the stress had gotten to him, and he was desperate for Dad to come home.  I think…he saw the nephilim as a threat.  See, your kind have all our powers, but you also have free will and your human souls—and he couldn’t control them…so, he lied.  He claimed Dad gave the order through me, and he had Raphael backing him up.”

     Her eyes widened in horror.  “Christ…”

     “Then…he gave those who had fathered nephilim a choice.”  His words came faster as he seemed to relive those days in his mind.  “Either they could be banished as traitors…or they could earn their absolution by destroying the abominations they spawned.  I guess he figured that if he screwed up badly enough, Dad would come home and punish him, but he didn’t even care about being punished, cuz Dad would be home.  But…Dad didn’t come home…”

     The archangel’s voice shook as his eyes filled with tears.  “I didn’t get a choice—not really.  I was the only archangel that fathered a nephilim.  Do you know what my options were?  If I didn’t follow his order, then he’d make me watch while he murdered my son…and for my disobedience, I would’ve been thrown in the Cage with Lucifer…”

     Tears burned Kyra’s eyes at Gabriel’s story, and she pulled her forefather into a fierce hug.  Whatever restraint he had left seemed to break—he started sobbing into her shoulder as he returned the embrace.  “I…I wasn’t strong enough.  I-I couldn’t…couldn’t stand up to M-Michael.  I…he was my son…and I…I killed him, Kyra…”

     As her forefather cried out his guilt and grief for the first time in centuries, Kyra felt her heart breaking.  Fucking Christ…under the circumstances, she didn’t blame him for his past.  Until now, she had no idea—her arms tightened around him as her own tears fell, wishing she could take away his pain.

     “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

     “It—it hurts too much,” was the broken reply.  “I can’t lose you too, Kyra.”

     “You won’t.”  She pulled back just enough to look at him, gently wiping his tears away.  “You don’t have to suffer alone, Gabe…let me help you.”

     “How?”  His voice was a rough whisper.

     A watery smile crossed her face.  “I can listen, for one thing…but even if you don’t wanna talk, I can be there for you…like you were for me.”

     The gratitude in his eyes as he tried to smile was reward enough; she kissed his forehead comfortingly.  “Thank you.”

     She brushed the hair back from his face.  “You don’t have to thank me, Gabriel.  You’re my family, and that’s what family is supposed to do.”

     Once Gabriel started to pull himself together again, Kyra stepped back, her mind still reeling from what he told her.  Everything she thought she knew had been turned on its head.  She wasn’t an abomination—he hadn’t awoken her Grace in defiance of his Father’s orders.  He was disobeying his brother the whole time.

     The image in her mind of Heaven’s general was suddenly much darker and more sinister than before.  It was bad enough that he passed his own decree under the pretense of God’s authority.  What he had done to his family—to Gabriel in particular—was unforgivable.  Nothing could excuse Michael’s actions.  Wanting to bring his Father home didn’t justify the atrocities he committed against his brothers and sisters.

     Rage was slowly building in the nephilim, making the lights flicker.  She clenched her jaw, trying to push back the anger, but it was as ineffective as the demon knife had been on Castiel.

     Her forefather looked at her, concerned.  “Kyra?”

     She forced her voice into an even tone.  “Michael…”

     Realization turned his expression to horror.  “Kyra, no.”

     Kyra’s eyes glowed gold with Grace as the light bulbs shattered.  “He has to pay for what he’s done.”

     His eyes widened—this was the first time he’d seen her truly enraged since he awakened her Grace, and it sent a jolt of terror streaking through him.  “Kyra, you can’t—”

     Lightning crashed above their heads outside, cutting off his words.  The blinding illumination revealed the shadows of her wings on the wall behind her as her angel sword slipped into her hand.  When she spoke, her voice was an inhuman snarl.

     “Watch me.”

     Desperate to stop her, Gabriel reached for her, but his fingers closed on empty air as she flew off.  A heavy sense of dread threatened to choke him—he had to find her before the Host did.  If anything happened to Kyra, he would never forgive himself.

Chapter Text

     Kyra didn’t know where she was going, and she didn’t care.  Her Grace burned with rage at the oldest archangel.  The bastard thought he was untouchable?  He thought he could get away with his sins?  He thought he could keep it a secret forever?

     The thought made her snarl.  He’d never met her…and he was about to find out just how wrong he truly was.

     It took almost no effort to open angel radio in her mind; the voices of the Host were a cacophony of noise that would’ve disoriented most people.  As angry as she was, the noise simply egged her on.  She was connected to every angel in existence now—everyone would hear what she had to say, whether they liked it or not.

     “MICHAEL!”  Her voice, so full of rage and authority, sent the Host into a shocked silence.  “Get your sorry ass down here, you bastard!”

     There was a moment of silence as the Host seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see what their leader’s reaction would be.  When Michael finally spoke, it was with a mixture of surprise and anger.  “So, the abomination finally comes out of hiding.  What makes you think an abortion such as you can speak to me with such disrespect?”

     “You don’t deserve respect after what you’ve done to your own family!” she hissed, then smiled cruelly to herself.  “But at least my creator didn’t abandon me like yours did…I’m loved.  So which of us would be the abortion?”

     The shock was quickly turning to anger in the archangel.  Good—she wanted to piss him off enough to face her.  “You are!  My Father gave the order to destroy your kind!”

     “Why don’t you tell the truth for once!  Tell your family who really gave that order!”  A murmur of confusion ran through the Host at her words.

     “Father gave that order!” he insisted.  “If you stop now, I’ll make your death quick.  Don’t tempt me, nephilim.”

     “It was YOU, you lying sack of shit!”  Her rage exploded in her voice as she flew even faster—staying in one place would be suicide at this point.  “You feared my kind because you couldn’t control us!  And you forced your brothers and sisters to murder their own children to prove their loyalty to you!  Not to Heaven, not to your Father—to YOU!”

     The shock of her accusation reverberated through the Host; she could sense the discomfort, the doubt her words had sown in their minds.  “You’d say anything to justify your existence!”  His next words were directed to the angels.  “The abomination wishes to sow doubt—don’t allow it to poison your minds!  Find it and destroy it!  Whoever brings me its head will be rewarded!”

     Fuck—she could sense the angels that had jumped at the order, dozens of them all looking for her.  She had to keep moving.  “If my existence is against your Father’s wishes, then who gave the order to resurrect me when Dean Winchester was saved?  I was in Heaven, right under your nose!  If God didn’t give the order for me to live, then who did?  And if He did, do you truly think He was blind to what I am?”

     Michael pretended she hadn’t spoken, but Kyra felt the Host buzzing at her disturbing questions.  Kicking the hornet’s nest was something she’d always excelled at, but this was on a new level entirely.  She learned a long time ago; the truth was the most dangerous weapon of all, and she used it with surgical precision.

     “So who’s the liar, Michael?  My forefather told me everything!  Your sins will be punished!  You can’t hide the truth forever!”

     “I never sinned!  I’m not like you!  Find her, NOW!"

     “You sinned against your family!  You can deny it all you want, but you know the truth!  Your Father knows the truth!  He hasn’t come home because He’s ashamed of what you’ve done!”

     “Don’t you DARE speak of Him that way!  Once this is over, He will come home!”

     “If He hasn’t come back by now, Michael, He never will…and I don’t blame Him!”

     At that moment, something slammed into her with the force of a wrecking ball, sending her crashing through the roof of a warehouse.  She recovered immediately to find herself surrounded by eight angels—fuck, this was bad…but she wasn’t going down without a fight.  Blade in hand, she leapt into action; her attack caught the angels by surprise.  The first fell under her assault, and she broke through the circle.

     “What were you expecting, nephilim?” Michael said, his voice dripping with honey-coated venom.  The bastard sounded a lot smugger now that she was cornered.  “Did you truly think you could stand against Heaven and win?  Kill her…slowly.”

     “Kyra, where are you?!”  The sudden, frantic prayer from Lucifer shot through her Grace; belatedly, she realized he’d heard the exchange as well.

     “If you want me dead so badly, do it yourself!” she barked at Michael as she killed a second angel, but that still left her with six-on-one odds.  Her prayer back to Lucifer was tinged with panic.  “I don’t know!  I was running blind!”

     “You aren’t worth my time,” was the response from Heaven’s general.

     “Don’t worry, I’ll find you!” Lucifer promised.

     “You’ll never win!  Even if you do kill me, you can’t hide the truth forever!”  These angels were tough, but they obviously weren’t used to fighting someone like her; as the third angel’s wings burned to ash, she started to feel cautiously optimistic.

     “I’ve already won.”  Just then, Kyra felt a blast of energy that left her suddenly drained.  What the…in the corner of her eye, she saw an angel pull his hand from a bloody sigil on the wall.  She didn’t recognize it, but judging from its effects, she knew she was in trouble—all her angelic strength and speed had left her, leaving her vulnerable…essentially human.

(artwork by @batfam-art)

     “Lucifer, hurry!”  Her sword found its home in the fourth angel’s neck, but she was too slow to sidestep the next attack.  The foreign blade sliced across her ribs and stomach, pain sending her reeling.  It wasn’t deep enough to kill, but she could feel her Grace bleeding from the wound, and it fucking hurt.

     Now that she was weakened from the sigil and wounded, the four angels left alive seemed determined to make her pay for their fallen brothers.  Fists and boots rained on her from every direction—too much for her to protect herself from.  Finally, they allowed her bloody, bruised body to fall to the ground.

     “The abomination carries an honor she doesn’t deserve.  Strip her of her wings…a feather at a time.”  Michael’s voice was quieter, colder; he was only speaking to her and her attackers now.

     Hearing that order made her Grace freeze in absolute horror.  No…Gabriel had told her how sacred an angel’s wings were.  Their wings were their most intimate part because they were a direct link to their Grace—to everything that made them who they are.  To touch another angel’s wings without permission was enough of a violation, but this?!  Intentionally destroying someone’s wings like that?  It was worse than rape, worse than torture…worse than death.

     When the angels’ hands reached for her again, she fought like a woman possessed, but it was all in vain as they forced her into a face-down position.  One grabbed her wrists and stretched her arms above her head while two others pinned down her torso and legs.

     A shudder of revulsion ran through her as she felt the last angel’s hand rip open the back of her shirt.  Barely a second passed before his hand pressed roughly at the base of her wings—she bit back a scream of pain and humiliation as her wings were forced into the physical plane by the pressure point.

     “HELP ME!”  Absolute terror rang through her voice as she sent a final, desperate prayer to Lucifer.

     “Hang on, I’m coming!”  Lucifer’s frantic reply told her that he was still searching for her…but she knew in her heart that he was too late.

     Tears filled her eyes as the unwanted hand roughly grabbed her left wing, pinning it down.  God, it was so WRONG, so VIOLATING, she didn’t WANT this—

     Every cell of her body screamed in agony as the angel blade bit into her wing, carving with expert precision.  Her Grace burned as the blade painstakingly ripped through it, her screams ringing through the warehouse and across angel radio.  After a moment, something was ripped from her with a painful jerk.  It was nearly impossible to think through the pain, but some part of her realized they were following Michael’s orders to the letter.  That was only the first feather.

     With every stroke of the blade, a tiny piece of her Grace was destroyed, a feather ripped out.  Her screams shattered the windows, echoing across angel radio.  Her grip on consciousness was fading, but there was no relief in the change.

     The last things that registered before she blacked out were how cold she was…and the distant screams of dying angels.

Chapter Text

     All Lucifer could do was listen to the accusations Kyra hurled at Michael in shock.  He heard the absolute fury in her voice, the denials that his brother made—but he also knew Michael’s tells…he could hear the hint of uncertainty, the faint hysteria of being exposed.

     “What were you expecting, nephilim?”  The calm sneer Michael gave made his Grace freeze.  He would only sound that smug if Kyra was captured.  “Did you truly think you could stand against Heaven and win?  Kill her…slowly.”

     No…he was flying before the words finished leaving Michael’s mind.  He had to find her, save her!  His prayer to her was tense:  “Kyra, where are you?!”

     “I don’t know!  I was flying blind!” was her frantic response.  Fuck—he had to find her!

     “Don’t worry, I’ll find you!” he assured her.  Worry was gnawing at his heart as he searched for her, but it was a big planet; she didn’t have time for him to take it slow.

     “Lucifer, hurry!”  All he could do was fly faster, searching the planet desperately for the woman he loved.  He just got her back—he couldn’t lose her, not like this!

     Seconds passed, but he was still coming up empty-handed.  She was tough; she wouldn’t go down without a fight.  There was a chance she could buy enough time for him to find her.

     “HELP ME!”  The absolute terror that resonated through his Grace from her voice made him falter for a split second—he had to find her now!

     “Hang on, I’m coming!”

     Why was it so hard to find her?  Were her warding tattoos damaged?  Fuck, he had to hurry.  If anything happened to her…

     His heart stopped for a moment at the scream that exploded in his mind…no…that wasn’t a death scream.  It was worse—a scream of absolute agony, of Grace slowly being ripped apart…

     It was nearly impossible to keep his grief from overwhelming him as her screams echoed in his mind.  Minutes passed, making him feel hopeless…but as long as she was screaming, she was still alive.

     Finally, he sensed her Grace nearby, but something was wrong—it was feverish, burning.  It only took seconds to locate the warehouse, appearing so silently that the angels didn’t notice.  The scene that greeted him nearly made him choke on the bile rising in his throat.  Three angels had her pinned to the ground, while the fourth was…was…

     Blind rage filled the archangel, the temperature dropping so rapidly that the walls of the warehouse shrieked in protest.  Kyra’s torturers barely had time to look at each other in alarm before Lucifer was among them, blade in hand, ripping them apart.  He was swift, merciless—they deserved to suffer, but he was too pissed to do anything more than slaughter the bastards.

     Once their corpses were scattered around his feet, he turned his attention to Kyra, the rage turning to awe and horror as he dropped to his knees beside her unconscious form.  The right wing was still untouched, perfect—the feathers were brilliant silver with a red iridescent shimmer, like sunrise on a winter morning.  Father, she was more beautiful than he ever imagined…

     But her left wing…roughly half the feathers were gone, tossed carelessly aside and scattered on the ground.  The sight made him nauseous, but he couldn’t afford to break down now—she was still in danger.

     Careful to avoid her wings, he pulled her into his arms and flew her to the room they used before, laying her on the bed with shaking hands.  Her Grace was bleeding out—if he didn’t heal her fast, her wounds would kill her.

     His eyes burned with unshed tears as he placed his hand at the gash on her torso, using his Grace to mend the damage.  Panic started building in his chest when nothing happened…she was still bleeding out.  He tried healing the bruises and cuts, but nothing he did had any effect.

     Tears rolled down his cheeks as he pulled her into his arms.  His heart shattered as he caressed her bruised, bloody face.  She was too far gone.  There was only one way he could save her…but the thought of what he had to do made him shudder, repulsed.

     Ever since Carthage, he had fantasized about seeing her wings, touching them, but not like this.  Not when she was dying, unable to give her consent—not after those bastards had tortured her, violated her.  He didn’t want to cross that line without knowing that she wanted it…but now, he didn’t have a choice if he wanted to save her.

     A sob broke through his chest as his wings shimmered onto the physical plane and wrapped around her protectively.  He hated himself for what he was about to do, but maybe…maybe she would forgive him someday.

     He pressed his lips to her forehead in a loving kiss, then turned his attention to her damaged wing.  His chest felt constricted, his breathing labored—fear made him hesitate.  Damn it, he wasn’t a healer; he wasn’t Raphael!  The slightest mistake on his part could easily make her injuries worse…or kill her.

     It took all his courage for him to reach for her most intimate part.  With all the tenderness he possessed, his fingers touched the bleeding, raw areas of her wing, making him shudder at the agony that raced through his veins from her exposed, damaged Grace.

     Taking a breath to steady himself, he gingerly reached out with his Grace, sending small, steady pulses of healing energy into her wounds.  He forced himself to work slowly, not wanting to overwhelm her with too much power.

     This time, his efforts weren’t in vain.  Ever so slowly, the wounds on her wing stopped bleeding and scabbed over—her Grace wasn’t pouring out anymore, but she’d lost so much already.  It would take time and rest for her Grace to replenish itself, just as it would take time for her wing to heal completely.

     His hand trembled as he turned his attention from her wing to the wound on her torso.  Now that the worst of the damage was healed, it was almost too easy to fix the rest of her body.  The gash on her torso, the bruises, the cuts, the broken bones—all of it was healed within moments.

     As her wings slowly faded from the physical plane, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and cried.  His wings wrapped around her unconscious form as they also faded from view, cradling her as shame overwhelmed him.  No matter how necessary it was, he had still done something he swore never to do—he touched Kyra’s wings without her consent.  He crossed the line that was unforgivable to cross.  No matter how pure his intentions were, he couldn’t help but feel disgusted with himself…he was no better than the bastards that put her in this position.

(artwork by @batfam-art)

*Gabriel*

     Damn it, Kyra was too fast; it wasn’t long before he lost her trail.  He needed help finding her, and there was only one person he could ask.

     “Castiel, you have to help me find Kyra!”

     The response was immediate as the younger angel joined the search.  “What happened?”

     “No time to explain—just find her before the Host does!”

     “ MICHAEL!  Get your sorry ass down here, you bastard!”

     Fuck, it was already starting.  The clock was ticking now; if they didn’t find her fast, it was gonna get ugly in a hurry.

     As the confrontation between Kyra and Michael quickly spiraled out of control, so did Gabriel’s dread.  Kyra was a hell of a fighter, but she was running on blind rage—she didn’t know Michael like he did.  If the angels found her first…

     “I’ve already won.”

     Shit, shit, shit!  Where was she?!  Gabriel was flying faster than he ever had in his life, his heart racing nearly as fast.  Michael wouldn’t sound that smug unless—

     The relative quiet of angel radio (it was too easy to drown out the usual babble) was shattered with a scream that ripped through the archangel’s Grace, filling him with an unspeakable horror.  Dad, no…please, not Kyra…not like this!

     A second scream followed the first.  Tears burned Gabriel’s eyes as he kept looking for his descendant.  What were they doing to her to make her scream like that?!  She didn’t deserve it, whatever it was!

     With every new scream, a piece of Gabriel’s heart shattered.  Why did he tell her about Michael?  If he’d just kept his mouth shut, this wouldn’t be happening!  Kyra would still be with him, safe—not screaming in agony.  He wasn’t stupid enough to hope that Michael would let her live.  When he finished with whatever torture he was using on her, he would execute her.

     Suddenly, the screaming stopped, filling him with fear.  No…no, he couldn’t lose her!  Dad, please, no!  The silence stretched on for several minutes, driving Gabriel to the brink of despair as he kept searching.  Fuck, this was taking too long…

     “Gabriel…I think you need to see this.”  Something in Castiel’s voice sent a shiver of dread through his Grace as he traced the younger angel’s location, landing in a warehouse.

     The scene that greeted him looked like something out of a horror movie.  Corpses littered the ground, the scorched imprints of their wings behind them revealing their true nature as angels.  On the far wall, a bloody sigil was scorched into the metal from its use—Gabriel’s hands shook when he recognized it as the sigil that cuts off a nephilim’s angelic powers for several hours.  At his feet…

     A strangled cry choked him as he dropped to his knees.  It wasn’t the blood he knelt in that made his hands shake, although that was bad enough…no, it was the feathers scattered all around.  Dad, no…his trembling fingers found one, his heart breaking all over again when he felt his descendant’s Grace infused in the quill.

     Gabriel’s tears fell thick and fast as he forced back the sob that threatened to choke him.  Christ, what did they do?!  It was all his fault…

     “She’s not here,” Castiel’s gravelly voice said quietly as the younger angel knelt next to him.  When a reassuring hand squeezed his shoulder, Gabriel looked at him to find his blue eyes tight with anxiety.  “Kyra stopped screaming several minutes ago.  All her captors are dead…she must’ve escaped somehow.”

     Fuck, he wanted to believe that…he had to believe that.  He took a shaky breath, pulling himself together once more as he stood up.  Castiel was right—Michael would’ve left her body where it was.  She had to be alive.  “She couldn’t have gotten far.”

     “I’ll be right behind you,” Castiel promised.

     Gabriel took off to search the area, leaving Castiel where he was.  The seraph gingerly picked up a feather, letting the traces of Kyra’s Grace wash over him.  He had always been fond of the young nephilim—she was strong and brave, yet still somehow managed to hold an endless depth of compassion and empathy.  In the Garrison, he had brothers and sisters, but Kyra…she treated him like an individual, not a soldier.  For the first time in his life, he felt like his thoughts and feelings actually mattered to someone.

     The idea of her being wounded so horribly, alone, sent an unexpected jolt of pain through his Grace.  She deserved better in life than what she’d received.  He wanted to believe they would find her, but what if they were too late?

     He bit his lip as he picked up a second feather, then a third.  After a moment, he gently placed them in an inside pocket of his coat, then straightened himself to his full height again.  If Kyra didn’t survive, he wanted to keep some part of her…something to remember his friend by.

Chapter Text

     As Kyra slowly returned to consciousness, the pain was the first thing she noticed.  Her left wing felt like it had been shoved through a meat grinder—fucking Christ, she couldn’t shut the pain out! 

     A shudder ran through her as her Grace writhed in agony.  Some part of her realized that she was laying on her stomach on a bed…where was she?  How did she get here? 

     Panic started to set in when she realized she wasn’t in her hunting clothes anymore.  She was clad in a thin silk cami and shorts, something she would only wear to sleep in.  Oh God, what happened while she was out?! 

     Her eyes opened slowly when she sensed movement nearby.  It took a moment for her to absorb her surroundings, but when she saw where she was, she relaxed.  Only one other person knew about this place. 

     “Lucifer?” she said weakly.

     The mattress sank under his weight as he sat beside her.  His voice was a soothing whisper as his hand found hers.  “I’m right here, love.”

     Laying down was unbearable—Kyra struggled to pull herself up, but she was so shaky and weak.  Thankfully, Lucifer seemed to understand, and he gently helped her into a sitting position facing him.

     One look at his worried face brought the memories rushing back.  She started sobbing, making him pull her into a warm, protective embrace.  Seeing her like this—so vulnerable, so traumatized, so broken—hurt him in a way that nothing ever had, and he felt tears burn his eyes as he held her close.

     “Shhh…it’s okay, Kyra…you’re safe now,” he murmured, stroking her hair with one hand and rubbing her back soothingly with the other.  Damn it…why would they do something so cruel?  Sure, he had a reputation for brutality, but what the angels did to Kyra?  He wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy.

     Eventually, she seemed to pull herself together, and she looked at him again.  “You…you saved me?”

     Something in her tone made a lump form in his throat.  It wasn’t surprise—more like disbelief…like she still didn’t understand how he could care about her.  He gently wiped her tears away with his thumb.  “I did.”

     “Did you kill them?”

     “Yes.  I killed them.”  His voice was quiet as tears burned his eyes again.  “They’ll never touch you again, baby.”

     “Good.”  The harsh tone sounded foreign coming from her, but he understood how she felt.  “They deserved it after…”  Fresh tears fell from her eyes as the memory obviously ran through her mind again.  “Luce, they…they…”

     “I—I know what they did,” he admitted.

     She tensed in his arms.  “H-how much did you see?”

     All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut at the memory.  “Too much.”

     Her voice was barely audible.  “You saw my wings?”

     “I-I did.”  Panic started to rise in him, and he added quickly, “They were so beautiful, sweetheart.”

     She nearly choked in disbelief at his words.  Her voice was tinged with hysteria when she screeched, “Beautiful?!  They mutilated me!”

     “And I destroyed them for what they did to you,” he said soothingly.  “Baby, they’re still beautiful.  And your wing will heal…it’ll just take time.”

     “Lucifer, I…”  She hesitated, like she wasn’t sure how to phrase what she wanted to ask.  “I don’t really remember, but…did you…?  I felt…wings around me at one point—and I was in so much pain, but I felt so…safe and, and loved…”  Her eyes were a kaleidoscope of emotions as she looked at him.  “Did that really happen?”

     Her question made him stiffen with unease.  Shit…he didn’t realize she was aware enough to feel his wings around her.  “Y-Yeah.  I was…I just…I was so scared that I was gonna lose you.  I wanted to save you so badly…I didn’t even think about it.”

     The shame of his own actions was too much to bear; he pulled away from her, letting his arms fall to his sides.  He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, to see the horror and betrayal he knew she would feel toward him now…but she deserved to know the truth.

     “Kyra, I’m so sorry.  I tried everything, but your Grace was bleeding out.  I had to,” he swallowed hard, his hands shaking as tears burned his eyes, “I had to…touch your wing…to heal you, to save you.  I swear, I was as gentle as possible, but I know it was wrong, especially after—”

     His voice failed him as the tears started to run down his face.  Fuck, she wouldn’t forgive him, not after this.  It just wasn’t possible.  Suddenly, he felt her hand caress his face, making him flinch from the unexpected touch.  Her thumb tenderly wiped away his tears, confusing him.

     “Baby, look at me.”  There was no anger in her tone, only a quiet plea.  It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he forced himself to meet her gaze.  His breath caught in his throat at the tenderness in her eyes.

     “You have nothing to feel ashamed for, Luce,” she reassured him, her voice quiet.  “I know why you feel that way, but…”  She bit her lip nervously.  “If you’d asked to see my wings…even without being hurt…I would’ve said yes.”

     Her whispered confession made his heart stop for a moment.  She…she wanted to show her wings to him?  The thought left him speechless.  He knew she cared about him, but he didn’t think she loved him…not that much.

     A flicker of anxiety flashed in her eyes as her wings materialized in front of him, just as beautiful as before.  The effort made her hiss quietly in pain, but the emotions swimming in her Grace and her eyes told him everything.  She was terrified, but not because she didn’t trust him.  No, she was afraid of rejection—that he didn’t love her in return, that he didn’t want her love.

     The hard knot of shame and guilt in his chest finally started to dissolve as he met her gaze.  How had he ever doubted her?  She was nothing like his family—she could never betray him like they did.  She trusted him, loved him…

     “Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his fingers hovering mere inches from her right wing.  She was practically in his lap now; she had moved closer to him without thinking, like he was a magnet pulling her in.

     “I’m sure.”  Her whisper was all the assurance he needed.  Slowly, he ran his fingers through the shimmering feathers, marveling at the feeling.  It was like a waterfall of living silk, of warmth and love and he couldn’t get enough.

     A low moan made him look at her again.  Oh…her wings were just as sensitive as any angel’s, and the arousal his touch brought was impossible to miss.  Her half-lidded eyes with pupils blown from desire, the way she bit her bottom lip, her breathing suddenly faster and heavier…he gave a light, experimental tug and was rewarded with a gasp of pure ecstasy.

     “Lucifer…”  Her voice was absolutely wrecked as her lips found his in a slow, tantalizing kiss that he couldn’t help but return.  Another slow stroke of his hand through her wing made her whimper.  She pulled back enough to whisper into his lips, accentuating her desperate words with soft kisses.  “Please…I wanna see them…touch them…I love you.”

     Oh, fuck—the absolute need and desire and love radiating from her made his head spin.  Any lingering doubts he had fell away as he pulled her into his lap with his free hand so she was straddling him.  After all this time, he finally found the one being that loved him without question, and he wasn’t about to lose her.  Not now.  Not ever.

     “I love you,” he whispered to her as he kissed her gently.  With a roll of his shoulders, he brought his wings into the physical plane, his heart racing in his chest.

     Seeing Lucifer’s wings for the first time made her shiver with awe.  Christ, they were enormous—easily 35 to 40 feet if he stretched them out, much larger than hers at 20 feet.  The feathers were white with the faintest hint of blue, like moonlight on fresh snowfall.  Her fingers delicately laced between the feathers, making her heart skip a beat at the sensations that ran through her from direct contact with his Grace.

     It took every ounce of restraint he possessed to keep still beneath her touch.  No one besides himself had ever touched his wings before, and he was completely unprepared for the arousal the contact awakened in him.  His jeans were rapidly becoming too tight as his cock hardened, but all his focus was on the way she caressed his wings.

     “So beautiful,” Kyra murmured, mesmerized by the sight and feeling.

     “So are you,” he said before kissing her again.  Father, he had no idea how powerful, how intense this would be—the passion and love that her touch ignited threatened to engulf him, and he couldn’t get enough.

     The instant his wings brushed against hers, a shockwave of ecstasy overwhelmed them, making them gasp at the unexpected pleasure.  Suddenly, the kiss they shared intensified, the hunger and need rapidly driving them mad with desire.

     Instinctively, she started to wrap her wings around him—but the movement was too much for her injured wing.  She broke off the kiss, biting back a scream of agony as searing pain tore through her.  If it weren’t for his strong arms around her, she would’ve collapsed from the pain racing through her Grace.

     Seeing her in so much pain made him want to slap himself.  Fuck, he was so stupid—he knew she was still injured, but he let himself get carried away.  She still needed time to heal…but she was with him now…they had time.

     “I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears of shame welling in her eyes as her wings vanished.

     “It’s okay,” he assured her gently, brushing the hair back from her face.  Part of him mourned the sudden loss of her wings against his, but he knew she wasn’t intentionally shutting him out.

     Kyra took several deep breaths, trying to push down the pain.  Damn it…her head was spinning, and not in a good way.  “I…I need to lay down,” she said weakly, giving him an apologetic, pleading look.  “Can you…hold me for a while?”

     All he could do was smile at her as he kissed her forehead.  “As long as you want,” he promised.

     It took a moment for them to find a comfortable position, but they eventually settled with Lucifer’s arms wrapped around her from behind, holding her close to his chest.  His wings folded protectively around her, making her smile softly as she relaxed into the embrace.  Sleep threatened to overtake her again, but she managed to pull his hand from her heart, lifting it to her lips and kissing his palm.  “My angel.”

     He smiled softly at her loving yet possessive tone.  She was already drifting off again when he turned his head, placing a gentle kiss on her shoulder.  “Sleep well, my love.”

*Meanwhile*

     Castiel was worried.  He and Gabriel had been searching for hours, but they still hadn’t found any trace of Kyra.  If he didn’t know better, he would’ve said that she flew somewhere safe, far away from the scene of the attack.

     As much as he wanted to keep searching, they had other problems.  Anna had approached him with her plan to kill Sam Winchester, and now she’d gone back in time to 1978 to kill John and Mary Winchester, effectively erasing Sam and Dean from existence.  He wouldn’t admit it to the brothers, but her plan was actually the most effective way to stop the Apocalypse.

     Still, he couldn’t allow her to follow through.  Sam and Dean were his friends, but more than that, they were two of the most influential humans in history.  They, and their father before them, had affected countless lives, and their decisions would alter the course of human history forever.  They were too important to destroy.  They deserved to live.

     He wanted to keep searching for Kyra, but he had to act fast to save the brothers.  They didn’t know she was missing, but that was probably for the best.  If they were going to stop Anna, Sam and Dean needed to be focused on the task at hand.  Worry for the young nephilim was a distraction they didn’t need.

     With any luck, Gabriel would find her while they were in 1978, and she’d be safe by the time they made it back to the present.  He had to believe she would survive.  His conscience wouldn’t let him abandon the search otherwise.

Chapter Text

     Kyra sat upright, trying not to wince as Lucifer’s fingers gingerly touched her injured wing.  A sigh of relief escaped her a moment later when his Grace reached out, relieving her pain as he poured healing energy into the contact.  It would take several sessions before she’d be strong enough to travel again.  Right now, just standing up and moving around the room left her exhausted. 

     “I just…I had no idea,” she admitted quietly. 

     “It’s okay, babe.”  His voice was soft, reassuring as he focused on his task. 

     She shook her head.  “It’s not okay, Luce.  I mean…what Michael did?  To Gabriel, to everyone?  It’s just…it’s wrong.” 

     “You’re right,” he agreed.  “I never thought—” 

     His voice cut off in quiet horror, remembering the crimes she threw in Michael’s face to expose him.  A shudder ran through her at the memory of Gabriel’s broken confession.  “Neither did I.  But when Gabe told me?  I just…I lost it.  I was so pissed, I couldn’t think.” 

     “Can’t say I blame you.  I would’ve gone after him, too.” 

     “Yeah.”  A quiet fury settled over her, her injuries keeping her from losing herself in rage.  “Michael will pay for what he’s done.  I’ll make sure of it.” 

     “You can’t face him like this,” he reminded her.  Part of him wanted to hunt Michael down himself, but taking care of Kyra was more important.  His brother could wait. 

     “We’ll need Gabriel,” she said quietly.  “I don’t know how to tell him about us, but…if all three of us stood together?  Michael won’t stand a chance.” 

     “We can figure that out later.”  Finished with healing for the time being, he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, pulling her close as her wings vanished.  “Right now, your focus should be on recovering.  Justice will come in its own time.” 

     Before she could think of a response, her stomach growled, making her sigh.  “Damn it.” 

     A sad smile crossed his face.  “Hungry?” 

     She nodded slowly.  “Yeah.  How long have I been here, anyway?” 

     “Three days…most of that unconscious.” 

     The information made her groan to herself.  “Fuck…no wonder I’m so hungry.” 

     He chuckled as he moved to sit beside her.  “What do you want to eat?” 

     She shrugged.  “I don’t know…something simple?  Just…some fruit or something right now, I guess.” 

     A second later, she was surrounded by every type of fruit she could think of.  “There you go, love.” 

     She picked up a strawberry and took a small bite.  “Thanks, baby…you’re too good to me, you know that?” 

     “I was thinking the same thing about you.” 

     She rolled her eyes at his words.  “I still don’t understand what you see in me.”  A warm smile crossed her face.  “But don’t think for a second that I don’t appreciate everything you do for me.” 

     His hand came up and tenderly tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear.  “I see pure beauty in you, Kyra.” 

     She leaned into his touch, savoring the affection.  “And I see love in you, Lucifer.  Perfect, limitless love.” 

     “And it’s all yours.” 

     A playful smirk crossed her face.  “Relationships go both ways, you know.”  She leaned in and gave him a soft, brief kiss.  “I belong to you, too.” 

     Her words made him smile.  “Good to hear.” 

     Suddenly, she straightened up, her expression troubled.  “Shit…Gabe’s probably freaking the fuck out right now!  I mean, I completely lost my shit, then after I got cornered, I dropped off the grid?” 

     “Fuck…I didn’t think about that.”  He actually hadn’t.  Great.  Not only was Michael determined to have her head on a spike, but Gabriel was probably tearing the planet apart trying to find her.  He’d find where she was attacked—if he hadn’t already—and find the blood, the feathers.  He’d know she couldn’t fly, so the longer she was missing and maintaining radio silence, the more suspicious it would be when she finally resurfaced.  And he wouldn’t stop looking for her until he knew she was safe. 

     “Son of a bitch,” she muttered to herself, rubbing her temple like she did when she was stressed.  The tension radiating from her made him pull her into his arms, but he was seeking assurance just as much as he was giving it. 

     “Hey, we’ll figure this out,” he said quietly.  “I’d say to call someone, but you didn’t have a phone on you when I found you.” 

     She groaned quietly.  “I bet I dropped it when I was on the run.  Wouldn’t be the first time it fell out of my pocket.”  A sigh escaped her as she relaxed into the embrace.  “Probably for the best, though.  The boys could track down our location with the signal.” 

     “Seriously?” he asked, surprised at that tidbit of information.  At her nod, he hummed thoughtfully to himself.  “Well, you’ve kept angel radio turned off for your own safety…keeping the God Squad off your trail.  And you’ve been laying low, trying to recover from the attack.  It might take a little creative thinking, but I think he’ll be more relieved that you’re alive, and care a little less about the details.” 

     Kyra gave him a soft kiss on the cheek before she pulled out of his arms, plucking a grape from its cluster.  “There’s always a bit of improv, but…I think you’re right.  He’ll be relieved, so that’ll give me some time to figure out how to explain all this to him.” 

     The rest of her meal was spent in comfortable silence.  Once she was finished, a wave of fatigue hit her, making her yawn.  Irritation flashed across her face as she grumbled, “What the hell?  I shouldn’t be this damn tired—all I’ve been doing is sleeping.” 

     “You almost died, Kyra.  I think it’s normal.” 

     The disgruntled pout she gave him was honestly adorable.  “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.  I don’t like spending all our time together asleep.” 

     He couldn’t help but smile.  “Actually, I love watching you sleep.” 

     She raised an eyebrow, doubtful.  “Why?  Isn’t it boring for you?” 

     “Not really.  You just seem so…peaceful.  I love how you breathe, how you always snuggle closer to me when you’re dreaming.”

     The look on her face told him she wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t push the subject.  “Sure, babe.  I just,” another yawn punctuated her words, “feel like I’m missing out…spending time with you.” 

     “We’ll have time, babe.  If you need rest, you have to rest.” 

     A sigh escaped her as she laid back down, still not pleased about it.  After a moment, she muttered under her breath, more to herself than him, “You’ll get tired of me…everyone does sooner or later.” 

     As soon as she spoke, he laid down beside her and pulled her into a possessive embrace, forcing her to meet his gaze.  “Everyone else is stupid.  I will never stop loving you.” 

     The emotion and conviction in his words sent her deep in thought.  Her mind went back to the moment they shared before.  When their wings touched, the love and passion from his Grace had overwhelmed her—but at the same time, it had given her a sense of peace she’d never known before.  It was so real, so right…like they were made for each other.  Finally, she asked quietly but seriously, “How much do you believe that?” 

     “Archangels aren’t made to change easily—but when we do?  It's impossible to go back.”  The softness in his eyes took her breath away.  “I love you, and nothing will ever be able to change that.”

     She bit her lip as she looked at him.  “Do you think that…?” 

     Her hesitation made him uneasy.  “What?” 

     For a moment, she struggled to find the words to the question she wanted to ask, but they wouldn’t come.  She let out a frustrated huff, then brought a hand up to his face in a gentle caress, letting her thoughts and emotions speak for her. 

     All he could do was suck in a shocked breath, his icy blue eyes locked on hers.  The silent question sent a jolt of pure love through his Grace.  Part of him couldn’t believe it—how did he find a creature so perfect, that loved him so deeply?  She wanted to be his mate. 

     Still, as badly as he wanted that connection with her, he was wary.  He wasn’t sure how much she actually knew about how the mating bond was forged; if she wasn’t prepared, the results would be catastrophic.  “I…I’d love that, Kyra.  I want it more than anything, but…do you know what you’re asking?” 

     Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  “What do you mean?” 

     “I mean, do you know how the mating bond is forged?  The process itself?” 

     The slight hesitation told Lucifer the answer before she spoke.  “Not really.  I mean, Gabe told me what the end result is, but he didn’t say much about the process.” 

     A heavy sigh escaped him.  “There’s a reason mating isn’t done more frequently,” he said quietly.  “There’s pleasure, but…there’s also pain.  You share your mate’s pain, their darkest memories.” 

     “And yours are darker than most,” she finished, a sad understanding in her eyes.  “Being cast out, the Cage—I’m sure there’s more.” 

     His heart dropped to his stomach.  Now that she knew, she wouldn’t want to go through with it.  Swallowing his disappointment, he lowered his gaze to their entwined fingers.  “You don’t have to.” 

     She shook her head slowly.  “It’s not that,” she whispered.  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Luce…things I’ve never shared with anyone…and you might not want me so much if you knew.” 

     The tone she used sent a shiver of dread through him.  “Like what?” 

     Her jaw tightened as she averted her gaze.  Even in the quiet of the room, he had to strain to hear her speak.  “When my brother died, I…I struggled with depression, and it got pretty bad.  I started cutting myself to cope…I wanted to die.  Then, when my kids…” 

     A shudder ran through her as her voice cracked, tears suddenly welling up in her eyes at the memories.  “As hard as I pushed myself to keep going, no one saw how bad it really was.  I came close to killing myself too many times to count, but I never followed through with it.  I just…kept finding reasons not to, ya know?” 

     All Lucifer could do was pull her into a comforting embrace, stunned into silence at her admission.  Tears burned his eyes as reality slammed home; they really weren’t so different, after all.  Kyra was so warm and loving and bright, but it all came with a heavy burden.  She understood suffering and self-loathing far too well—but somehow, it hadn’t consumed her.  Instead of growing bitter and cynical, her pain made her compassionate. 

     If she’d given in to that despair, if he’d never met her…horror streaked through his Grace, his heart breaking at the thought.  His life was so empty before her, but it had taken everything she’d shown him for him to realize that fact. 

     With abrupt clarity, he realized his choice was already made.  His heart already belonged to her—there would never be anyone else for him.  No matter how dark her past was, no matter what hidden agony she held, the risks were worth it. 

     “There’s nothing you could show me that would make me love you any less,” he assured her quietly.  A heavy sigh escaped him; she deserved to know about his past, too. 

     “I wasn’t always like this,” he confessed in a whisper.  Her arms tightened around him, and he took comfort in her warmth and silent support.  Resting his forehead in the crook of her neck, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

     “I used to be the brightest angel in existence…but, we were soldiers, too.  After the first war we fought together, my Dad—He gave me the Mark.  At the time, I was so proud that He trusted me with it, but…” 

     His voice cracked as he hesitated.  “I carried it for a long time…billions of years…but it came with a price.  It changed me, corrupted my Grace.  I was angry, violent, destructive—it drove me to tempt Eve, to corrupt Lilith.  Those acts got me kicked out of Heaven, but it wasn’t enough. 

     “I made a deal with Cain, ended up passing the Mark to him—and when I was finally free of it?  It was like…like waking up after an exorcism.  You know what you did, but even though the evil is gone, the memory stays with you.  You’re never the same after that.” 

     One of her hands rubbed his back while the other stroked his hair, comforting him…when did he start crying?  “Passing on the Mark—making Cain kill Abel—was the final straw with Dad.  That’s when He had Michael throw me in the Pit…and then, I was all alone, in a place built just to torture and contain me.  And…with the Mark gone, its effects on me faded…and the guilt set in, and—and I spent over four million years begging my Father for mercy, for forgiveness…” 

     With each word, Kyra’s heart broke even more for his pain; her tears silently joined his as his voice trailed off into quiet sobs.  Fucking Christ…no one deserved that kind of cruelty…especially from their own father.  To be judged and condemned for his actions when he was being influenced by something he couldn’t control?  By the very mark He gave him?  It was unthinkable…but it still happened. 

     They clung to each other long after Lucifer’s tears ran dry.  His voice was cracked and hoarse as he whispered, “I don’t want my past to hurt you, Kyra.  If you didn’t know,” a shudder ran through him, “if you’re not prepared…the backlash would damage your Grace permanently.  I can’t—I can’t do that to you.” 

     Her lips pressed against his temple lightly for a moment.  “Well…it looks like we’ve got a lot to talk about before we actually mate, then.” 

     Excitement and hope rushed through his Grace at her words.  He pulled back to meet her gaze.  “Are you sure you want that?” 

     A small smile crossed her face.  “I’m sure.  I just…”  A flash of pain crossed her face as she winced.  “I just have to heal a little more first.” 

     “Yeah…we have time.  You should rest, and heal.” 

     She nodded and yawned again.  “Good idea…”  Giving him one last kiss, she snuggled closer to him and closed her eyes.  “I love you, Luce.” 

     A chuckle escaped him as he pressed a loving kiss to her temple.  “I love you too, Kyra…with everything I am.” 

     Long after Kyra fell asleep, Lucifer stared at her sleeping face, lost in thought.  Ever since she’d helped him to realize he had free will, he still went through the motions with his demon followers—who were probably losing their damn minds at his sudden disappearance when he saved Kyra, not that he really cared—but his heart just wasn’t in it.  Truthfully, it never had been. 

     Everyone and their mother seemed to think that all he wanted to do was kill Michael and destroy the world.  But that was the problem.  He didn’t want those things.  He never did. 

     The Winchesters had already defeated War and Famine.  Pestilence and Death were still out there, and that was a problem.  Well, Pestilence was more of a problem than Death.  Lucifer knew the oldest Horseman well enough to know he despised being forced into the Apocalypse as the fallen archangel’s attack dog.  Without the binding spell that forced him to obey Lucifer, Death would be perfectly happy to resume his role in keeping the natural order intact.  He wouldn’t be an issue. 

     Pestilence, on the other hand…he was a loose cannon with an axe to grind against humanity.  Granted, Lucifer still despised humans in general, but at least he could admit to himself now that trying to destroy them was beneath him.  The horseman was unstable and dangerous.  He had to go. 

     The biggest problem was Michael.  He knew his brother…he’d never stop hunting Kyra, and he wouldn’t care that Lucifer didn’t want to fight.  He was so blinded by the idea of bringing their Father home, of being the good son, that he’d committed unthinkable crimes against his own family. 

     Anger made his blood freeze in his veins as he remembered the scene in the warehouse.  Nobody deserved that level of cruelty, least of all the nephilim in his arms.  A surge of possessiveness hit him anew, and he had to force himself to stay and not do anything stupid.  She was his, and nobody touched what was his without paying the price.  If Michael wanted a fight, he’d damn well get one…but it would be on Lucifer’s terms.  Not Michael’s, and definitely not their Father’s. 

     Before he met Kyra, he was content to play the role his Father placed him in, no matter how much he disliked it.  He was an angel, and angels were made to obey…at least, that’s what he’d always believed.  But now?  Now, Kyra had opened his eyes to the truth.  This was his life—and he was finally ready to tear up the script.

Chapter Text

     It was just over a week since the attack, and Lucifer was relieved at how well Kyra was healing.  Her wing was still too damaged for her to fly, but she was strong enough to travel by human means again.  She was able to stay awake for almost a whole day before she had to sleep now, which was real progress. 

     However, sleep was the furthest thing from either of their minds at the moment. 

     “You sure you’re ready for this?” he asked quietly as she straddled him where he sat, propped up against the headboard of the bed. 

     “I’m sure,” she whispered, leaning in and resting her forehead against his in a tender gesture, her fingers tangled in his hair. 

     Over the last several days, most of their conversation had revolved around mating, their past experiences.  He explained everything, and she soaked in the information, asking her own questions and sharing her past.  She knew exactly what she was getting into, and she wasn’t backing down.  Truthfully, Lucifer would’ve preferred to wait—to give her more time to heal—but her mind was made up.  It was time. 

     To his knowledge, what they were about to do had never been done before.  Angels typically mated with other angels, so a vessel was never part of the equation.  However, Kyra couldn’t separate herself from her body like he could.  Her body was her, not a vessel.  That meant he had to stay inside Nick as well.  Mating while inhabiting a vessel wasn’t impossible, but it did make the process slightly more complicated—and he had no idea what kind of effect it would have. 

     A slight tilt of his head was all it took to bring his lips to hers in a slow, sweet kiss.  He snapped their clothes away with a thought, leaving their bodies exposed to each other, but neither of them acknowledged it.  This was something that couldn’t be rushed. 

     The kiss ended just as tenderly as it began, and he pulled back enough to meet her gaze as his wings came into view.  Her lips pressed together for a moment before her wings shimmered into the physical plane as well.  She might’ve been physically on top, but she was following his lead. 

     Staring into each other’s eyes, they slowly reached for each other with their Grace.  That first contact was like soothing an ache they didn’t know they had—the blistering heat of her Grace comforted him, while the bitter cold of his soothed her.  Their relief was short-lived, however. 

     With little warning, Lucifer found himself bombarded by memories of his lover’s past.  The death of her little brother when she was a teenager, the vicious cycle of depression and self-harm she subsequently fell into—every emotion she felt flowed through him with agonizing depth and clarity, made even more torturous by the damage to her Grace.  His eyes burned with tears as his arms tightened around her, pulling her closer. 

     At the same time, Kyra was pulled into his memories.  The slow corruption of his Grace from his eons of bearing the Mark was agony—the rage, the unrest, the thirst for violence, the constant ache was worse than anything she’d ever felt before.  A shudder ran through her as she gasped, clinging to him like her life depended on it. 

     All they could do was hold on as they fell deeper, the memories steadily growing more excruciating as they started to blur together.  The creation of the first demon, the deaths of her children and husband, the torment of the Cage, the pain and grief so intense that death would’ve been a welcome relief—everything.  Tears rolled freely down both of their faces, but they were blind to everything but the memories. 

     Neither of them knew if the torment lasted for seconds or hours.  Slowly, the pain and the memories began to fade, leaving them shaking in each other’s arms.  Their Grace was still connected, and Lucifer took the opportunity to soothe Kyra, wordlessly reassuring her that the worst was over. 

     Lucifer was thankful beyond words they made it this far.  With Kyra’s injuries, the possibility of her being overwhelmed and hurt even worse was far too real.  The pain of her injured wing still surged through him like a live wire, but it was nothing he hadn’t endured on his own before.  Even though it made him want to scream, they couldn’t stop now.  He could take it. 

     It took longer for Kyra to recover.  She knew it would be painful, but fuck, she didn’t expect it to be that bad!  Sure, Lucifer told her everything, but actually feeling it as he had?  There were no words to describe it.  Strangely enough, she felt…stronger now.  Her wing didn’t hurt, although she could still feel the injuries there. 

     The energy between them began to shift again, but the change wasn’t as drastic or unpleasant as before.  Instead of pain, a feeling of serenity washed over them.  After several moments, Lucifer wrapped his wings around his lover, cradling her.  A shudder of pleasure ran through both of them when his wings brushed against hers and lingered there. 

     That extra connection between their Grace had a profound effect on the couple.  All the love they shared flowed between them anew, but this time, there was a new edge to that devotion.  Something deeper, impossible to ignore.  Something instinctual, something…primal. 

     Even the agony of Kyra’s damaged Grace was nothing in comparison to the desire flooding Lucifer’s veins.  One hand squeezed her hip while the other threaded through her hair, pulling her back to meet his gaze. 

     Words were pointless.  Lucifer could feel Kyra’s desire as strongly as he could his own.  He could see it in the way she looked at him.  There was no hesitation, no doubt, no fear as his lips met hers in a slow, smoldering kiss.  All Kyra could do was return the kiss as she pulled Lucifer closer.  She didn’t try to fight the rising flood of emotions.  She didn’t want to.  It was too pure, too perfect—nothing could compare to this. 

     With her straddling him, it was impossible not to notice the physical reaction he was having to the intimacy of the moment.  His cock was hard, trapped between their bodies.  The grip on her hip tightened as he gave a shallow thrust, dragging his length between her folds, the action drawing a whimper of need from her. 

     The kiss grew more intense but lost none of its soul as he repeated the action.  This time, she ground down on him, swallowing the groan of pleasure he gave as her arousal left a warm, wet trail down the underside of his length. 

     Mindful of her wings, he flipped her onto her back, pinning her body beneath his.  The mating ritual had completely taken over, demanding to be completed, but they were beyond caring about the loss of control—the need was too much.  They wanted this.  Sex wasn’t normally part of mating, but then again, neither was a physical body. 

     They clung to each other tighter as Lucifer slid inside her an inch at a time, drawing moans of ecstasy from both of them.  Once he was buried to the hilt, he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his breath catching at the sight of her eyes glowing gold with her Grace.  He knew his eyes were glowing red as well, but the sight didn't frighten Kyra like he thought it might.  No…she didn’t care that his Grace was corrupted by bearing the Mark for so long.  She wanted him, just the way he was in that moment. 

     As they moved together, they quickly realized something.  Sex between them had always been phenomenal, but this was a level neither of them imagined could exist.  Their Grace was entwined so tightly that every touch, every kiss, every thrust of their hips, every feather brushing against their wings felt like the very definition of bliss. 

     Words were unnecessary, but whispers of love and adoration still flowed from their lips in a strangled mixture of English and Enochian.  It was impossible to think through the pleasure.  They could only feel. 

     Lucifer could feel his Grace slowly warming, all the way through to his core.  Kyra, meanwhile, felt the blistering heat of her Grace gradually cooling down to a more bearable temperature.  The change was unexpected, but they were too lost in the moment to question it. 

     The mating bond was slowly gaining strength, raising their pleasure to even greater heights.  They could feel it now—feel each other’s Grace inside and out, from the tips of their wings to the innermost core of their being.  There was no thought, only instinct.  As the bond started to solidify, they found themselves dancing closer and closer to the edge.  Their movements started to turn erratic, desperate as they were for release. 

     With one final thrust, the mating bond was sealed, throwing them over the edge of bliss—they clung to each other as their orgasms raced through them, leaving the lovers shaking and breathless.  All they could do was hold each other close as they gradually came down from their high together. 

     It was done.  They couldn’t change their minds, even if they wanted to.  The Winchesters, Gabriel, Castiel, Bobby, all the forces of Heaven and Hell—their opinions or actions could never drive them apart.  Mating bonds were eternal.  Nothing but death could separate them now. 

Chapter Text

Back in 1978

     Dean was still reeling from everything that had just happened.  Not only did Anna show up with Uriel to kill his entire family, but now Sam was bleeding out on the floor of the cabin while he was face to face with the archangel he’d been avoiding ever since Zachariah told him what his role in the Apocalypse actually was—and the smug bastard was wearing his dad. 

     “I just want you to understand what you and I have to do,” Michael told him calmly. 

     “Oh, yeah.  Nuke half the planet in your big prize fight against the devil?” Dean said, glaring at the archangel.  “Sorry.  Pass.” 

     To his surprise, the archangel didn’t seem bothered by his refusal.  He simply looked at the hunter with an expression that sent a shiver up his spine.  It was friendly on the surface, but the malice radiating from him spoke volumes.  “That’s not the only reason I’m here, Dean.  I understand you’re…acquainted with the abomination.” 

     The word made Dean's blood boil.  “If you’re talking about Kyra—” 

     “I am.” 

     “—she’s not an abomination,” he finished, ignoring Michael’s interruption.  “She’s a good hunter, a good person, you dick.” 

     “I wanna know where it is.” 

     “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I don’t know.” 

     That seemed to bring Michael up short.  “You don’t?” 

     “I’m not her friggin’ babysitter, you know.  She doesn’t tell me every move she makes.” 

     His expression turned shrewd.  “Then you don’t know what I did to it, either.” 

     Dean froze.  What he did to her?  “Say that again?” 

     The look in Michael’s eyes turned slightly darker.  “It was spreading lies and unrest throughout Heaven.  It had to be silenced.” 

     Dean’s voice was as quiet as it was demanding.  “What.  Did.  You.  Do?” 

     “I did what any leader would do.  I ordered my siblings to find the abomination.  And when they finally captured it?”  The smile that crossed his face turned the blood in Dean’s veins to ice.  “I told them to strip it of the honor it didn’t deserve.  I ordered them to destroy its wings.” 

     At those words, Dean’s heart stopped.  No…not Kyra.  Every moment of the last seven years, the time he’d known her, played through his mind with agonizing clarity—every smile, every laugh, every fight, every mistake he ever made.  He never told her the truth.  He never told her how much he loved her.  That she deserved better.  And now?  She’d never know. 

     The archangel’s tone was mild, but the satisfaction radiating from him made Dean sick to his stomach.  Christ, he was only gone for a few days!  He should’ve been there to help her!  She couldn’t be dead!  “You sadistic son of a bitch,” he breathed out, his heart breaking as he thought back to all the ways he’d pushed her away.  

     Michael’s jaw clenched.  “But…it escaped.”  Dean let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relief flooding his veins; at least Kyra was alive.  “And I want to know where it’s hiding.” 

     “Well, good fucking luck.  Even if I knew where she was, I sure as hell wouldn’t tell you.” 

     A dead smile was the first response to his words.  “I could make you talk,” Michael assured him.  “But you don’t know where it is, so there’s no point.” 

     “Call her ‘it’ one more time and I’m gonna shove an angel blade up your ass,” Dean growled, making the archangel give him a bemused look. 

     “Why do you defend her so strongly?” Michael asked.  “She’s not human, Dean.  She never was…not really.” 

     “What’s your point?” 

     “Nephilim are selfish, faithless creatures.  Sooner or later, she will abandon you…or worse, betray you.  Whatever redeeming qualities you think you see in her will be gone, and you’ll see her for what she truly is.  A monster.” 

     All Dean could do was shake his head.  “See, that’s just what you want me to believe.  But you know what the problem with that is?  I know her, inside and out.  She’s pulled our asses out of the fire so many times, thrown herself in harm’s way for us, stuck by us even when we weren’t there for her, even when other hunters turned their backs on us—even when we broke the damn world.  Hell, I’m amazed she still answers the phone when we call.  So, you wanna know what she really is?  Family.” 

     Michael merely sighed in disappointment.  “You still refuse to see the truth…but you will see it, Dean.” 

     The hunter met Michael’s stare with a defiant smirk.  “The only thing I see is that you’re full of shit.” 

     “What did you say?” 

     “See, you keep talking about how she’s an abomination, how her existence goes against God’s orders—but wasn’t it God that gave the order to bring her back from the dead?” 

     “My Father works—” 

     “If you say ‘in mysterious ways,’ so help me, I’ll kick your ass.” 

     The smile on the archangel’s face sent a shudder through Dean.  “It’s true, though.  Sure, I don’t understand His decision in that particular matter, but His orders still stand.  Everything that’s happened?  It’s all part of the plan He made in the beginning, a plan that’s playing itself out perfectly.” 

     Dean stared at the archangel, his jaw clenched.  The guy was so smug; he obviously believed everything he was saying, but Dean didn’t want to.  Every conversation with Kyra about the Apocalypse, every theory he’d listened to from her and Sam—his gut was screaming at him now, and he spoke without thinking. 

     “I don’t think He’s the one with a plan.  I think the one with a plan…is you.” 

     Michael’s tone was flat.  “What?” 

     “I mean, you worked with Hell to jump-start the Apocalypse.  Call me crazy, but working with the enemy doesn’t sound like something a good son would do to me.  Makes me wonder what else you’ve been planning.” 

     His words made Michael narrow his eyes dangerously.  The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end; he was suddenly painfully aware of how easily the archangel could kill him.  “Choose your next words very carefully, Dean.” 

     Dean shrugged.  “I don’t know what the hell you’ve got up your sleeve, but there’s one thing I do know.  Nothing stays a secret forever…nothing.” 

     “What I’m doing is Father’s will.” 

     “That’s what you keep saying, but you know what?  I have my own will, and I’m telling you, it’s never gonna happen.  I won’t say yes.” 

     “You will.  And you know how I know?”  The archangel turned away, his gaze roaming around the details of the room.  “Think of a million random acts of chance that allowed John and Mary to be born…to meet…to fall in love…to have the two of you.  Free will’s an illusion, Dean.” 

     “I think I’ll take my chances.” 

     Disappointment flashed across Michael’s face, but it was gone before Dean could react.  “I think it’s time you went back,” he said, closing the distance between them.  He started to lift a hand, making Dean tense.  “I’ll see you soon.” 

     With those words, he touched Dean’s forehead, and the hunter immediately felt the disorientation of being thrown through time and space.  A moment later, he landed hard, knocking the air out of his lungs.  He looked around wildly, taking in the details of his surroundings before finally relaxing; he was back in 2009, in his and Sam’s motel room, with Sam on his bed. 

     Before Dean could get to his feet, Sam shot up with a gasp, clutching at his (now healed) abdomen, and looked around before meeting Dean’s gaze.  “Dean?  Wh-what happened?” 

     Icy dread flooded Dean’s veins as Michael’s words played through his mind anew.  The archangel’s disdain for Kyra was obvious, but until he knew more, he was going to assume Michael was telling the truth about hurting her.  “Sammy…Kyra’s in trouble.”

Chapter Text

     Kyra opened her eyes slowly, yawning sleepily.  Aside from the pain in her damaged wing—impossible to ignore, but much easier to bear than it was a week ago—she felt more rested and at peace than she could ever recall.  She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep, but the warm chest pressed against her back and the comforting arms that held her close made the time unimportant. 

     Lips brushed against her neck before slowly skimming up to her earlobe.  “Hey, beautiful,” Lucifer whispered to her, placing a kiss in her hair. 

     Smiling to herself, she hummed a response as she laced her fingers with his, relaxing into his embrace.  Before they mated, the contrast of their body temperatures had been striking.  Now, they were the same temperature.  Even though it was still new, it hadn’t taken any time to adjust to the change. 

     They stayed like that for several moments before she turned to her other side, facing her mate in the candlelight.  The fallen archangel was just as beautiful as he’d always been, but now, there were intricate markings spread across his cheekbones, etched into his Grace.  Her breath hitched as she lightly touched one of the marks; it glowed brightly in response. 

     “They’re bonding marks,” he said quietly, answering her unspoken question.  “All mated angels have them, but the marks are different from one set of mates to the next.” 

     “I have them, too?” she asked, surprised.  In response, he snapped up a handheld mirror and gave it to her, a small smile on his face. 

     As she stared at her reflection, her eyes widened in wonder.  Yes, she had the marks, too.  A pattern identical to Lucifer’s decorated her face; upon closer inspection, she realized they weren’t physical.  They were etched into her Grace, impossible to remove even if she wanted to, but also completely invisible to human eyes. 

     “Wow,” she whispered, stunned.  For some reason, that made Lucifer chuckle. 

     “That was my reaction, too,” he admitted, snapping the mirror away and smiling at her.  “I wasn’t sure what to expect.  Like I said, every set of mates has a different mark.  But you know what?  They’re perfect.” 

     “Yeah, they are,” she agreed.  Suddenly, her smile disappeared.  “That’s gonna complicate things, though.  Gabe and Cass will see them…they’ll know.” 

     Deep down, Lucifer knew this was going to happen sooner or later.  He knew they couldn’t hide their relationship forever.  The only things he was unsure of was how much longer they had until they were exposed, and how her friends would react once they found out.  “So the question is, what do we do now?” 

     His question sent Kyra deep in thought.  It had been over a week since the assault from Heaven’s forces.  As much as she wanted to forget the world and spend the rest of eternity with her mate, she knew she had other responsibilities to take care of.  Sam and Dean still needed her help.  It was a risk, but they were still her family.  She couldn’t abandon them.  “I have to go to Uncle Bobby’s.” 

     Her words made him frown.  It wasn’t a decision he particularly liked, but he understood how important it was to her.  “It’s 900 miles to Sioux Falls, Kyra,” he said quietly, “and you can’t fly anymore.  How are you gonna get there?” 

     “My car,” she answered.  At his confused expression, she explained, “It’s warded to hide me from the Host.  Gabe taught me how to summon things…I’ve sent it back and forth a lot.  I can bring it here, then drive it to Bobby’s house.” 

     After a moment, his fingers laced with hers.  “I’d feel a lot better about it if you didn’t go alone,” he told her. 

     “Well, you couldn’t exactly walk through the front door with me,” she said, chuckling as she imagined the looks on her friends’ faces if he did, “but it’s gonna be a long drive, and I’ll have to make a lot of stops.  Food, drinks, gas for the car…I’d be risking exposure each time.  But, if you went with me, I’d be a lot safer.” 

     A groan escaped him at the thought of riding in a car.  Human transportation was so slow!  And ever since the Cage, being in such confined spaces made him want to crawl right out of his vessel, not that he would admit it.  Being stuck in a vehicle for hours on end was the last thing he wanted to do—but it also meant being able to stay with his mate, making sure she was safe. 

     “Okay,” he agreed quietly.  A comfortable silence fell between them as they simply basked in each other’s affection.  He didn’t want to break it, but the idea that had been forming in his head for the past few days just wouldn’t leave him alone.  “Actually, I’m gonna have some things to take care of while you’re there, so I guess that works out.” 

     Hearing this made her prop herself up on her elbow, giving him a curious look.  “What kind of things?” 

     “Well…I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said before,” he started, his eyes unfocused as he allowed his mind to drift into those thoughts.  “About having free will?  And…everyone seems to think all I wanna do is kill Michael and destroy everything, but I never wanted any of it.  I mean, I was already in the Cage when Dad said the Apocalypse was gonna happen.  So…I’m not gonna do it.” 

     Confusion made her eyebrows scrunch together.  “What do you mean?” 

     A tired sigh escaped him.  “I mean, you’re right.  I still don’t like humans that much, but it’s just—it’s not worth it, trying to destroy them or whatever.  So, I guess what I’m saying is…I’m not gonna be a part of the Apocalypse anymore.” 

     Her fingers idly started tracing patterns on his bare chest in a feather-light touch.  “So what are you gonna do?” 

     Her question made him finally look at her, a soft smile on his face.  This was why he loved her so much.  Even now, there wasn’t an ounce of judgment in her tone or her gaze.  She wasn’t trying to pressure him into a decision; she genuinely wanted him to make that choice on his own. 

     A chuckle escaped him.  “I have no idea.  And it’s—I’ve never not had a plan.”  The look he gave her said more than words ever could; this was uncharted territory for him, and he was worried.  “How can you stand it?  The uncertainty, the lack of direction, of preparation?”  

     A smile crossed her face at his words.  “Well, I grew up human, and for them?  Nothing’s certain.  But I have faith in you, babe.  You’ll figure it out.” 

     “I hope so.” 

     After a moment, she laid back down, cuddling into his side as he wrapped his arms around her once more.  “So, what were you gonna do while I’m at Uncle Bobby’s?” 

     “Well,” he paused, already dreading the conversation that would come when he actually followed through with his plan, “I have to release my hold on Death.  Or he’s gonna be pissed when he does get free.” 

     A look of concern crossed her face.  “Okay, I know I don’t know anything about Death, but are you sure that’s a good idea?  I mean…what does he normally do when he’s not on Apocalypse duty?” 

     “He just does his job.  Like a reaper.  Most people don’t believe it, but he’s never actually killed anyone.” 

     The mild surprise from his mate nearly made him chuckle.  “Well, that’s not so bad, then.”  She hesitated for a moment before asking, “What about Pestilence?” 

     “Hmm…good question.  I’ll probably just send him back to the pit he crawled out of.  He’s a loose cannon—letting him roam free is a bad idea.” 

     She nodded slightly.  “And his entourage?  What about them?  Are you gonna kill them, or reassign them, or what?” 

     The question made him thoughtful.  That was a new problem.  Witnesses would just complicate things.  “Not sure…but I think I should kill them, keep things quiet.” 

     To his surprise, she chuckled at his answer.  “Sounds like you’ve got that much figured out, at least.” 

     “That’s the easy part.” 

     “Yeah.”  She turned her head, placing a kiss on his shoulder.  “You wanna know something?” 

     Something about her tone made him slightly uneasy.  Knowing her, it could mean anything.  “…sure, baby.  What is it?” 

     Her hand came up and caressed his face as she met his gaze; the gentle smile caught him off guard.  “I’m proud of you.” 

     “I…what for?” 

     “Because…you’re finally making your own choices.  And yeah, I’m glad you chose to walk away from the Apocalypse, but…it’s not just that you are, it’s why you’re doing it.  And, well…I know what everyone else thinks about you, and I know they’re wrong, but…it feels like this is your big chance, you know?  To prove them wrong.  And this is a good start, I think.  A lot of people are gonna be saved, just from you choosing this.” 

     As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t find the same optimism his mate seemed to have.  “Not that it’s gonna change anything.  Everyone’ll hate me, anyway.” 

     A smirk crossed her face.  “You think everyone that knows me likes me?  Hell, people like Sam and Dean and Bobby are in the minority.  Most hunters I’ve met hate me when I’ve done nothing but help people, just because I’m not normal.  To tell the truth, I’m kinda shocked nobody’s tried to kill me yet.  I know word’s gotten around about what I am by now.” 

     “That’s their mistake.  You don’t deserve it.  Me, on the other hand…”  His voice trailed off, not sure where to begin listing everything he’d done over the years. 

     She gave him an annoyed look.  “If people wanna judge and condemn you just because they blindly follow Heaven’s bullshit, that’s not on you.  It’s their flaw, not yours.  You were royally screwed over, and it’s not fair or right.  And you can’t win over everyone, I know that…but if even one person changes their opinion of you, or starts questioning whether you’re really as evil as they’ve been led to believe?  That’s a win in my book.” 

     “If you say so…but sometimes I believe them, you know?  Sometimes I think I really am evil.” 

     A sad look crossed her face.  “Then you’re wrong.”  The expression on her face changed to a sweet smile.  “And hey, you’ve got me now.  I’ll remind you as many times as it takes until you get it through your thick skull…you’re not evil.” 

     The fallen archangel had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.  “Thank you, Kyra.” 

     “You don’t have to thank me, Luce.  That’s what I’m here for.”  Silence reigned for a moment before she said, “We should start getting ready to hit the road soon.  But…there’s something I need to do before we go.” 

     “What is it?” 

     The grin that crossed her face sent a chill through him.  Damn it, this was exactly what he’d been worried about.  The assault left her with mental scars…and she was enjoying the madness from it.  “I’m sending a message to Michael…he’s gonna wish he’d never heard of me.” 

     Oh, fuck…  “A message?  To Michael?  That…that doesn’t seem like a good idea.”  His eyes narrowed in concern.  “What the hell are you planning?” 

     Somehow, the grin on her face seemed even more gleefully psychotic than before.  “You’ll see.”

Chapter Text

*Gabriel*  

     By this point, the archangel was nearly beside himself with worry and guilt.  He didn’t need sleep or food, but even without having to stop for those, he still couldn't find any trace of Kyra.  No matter what he did, how hard he searched, he still turned up nothing. 

     The first time he returned to the warehouse, he found Kyra’s phone.  It was smashed and useless—presumably it fell out of her pocket while she was fighting—but he still took it, along with the feathers scattered around.  He wasn’t going to give Michael the chance to track her using her Grace if he could avoid it. 

     Granted, it probably wouldn’t do his brother any good.  As much as he hated it, he’d been desperate enough to use a few of her feathers in a tracking spell, but it hadn’t given him any results.  Either she was holed up in an angel-proof, spell-proof safehouse, or— 

     A shudder ran through him as he cut off the thought.  No, she had to be alive.  Kyra was a survivor.  Sure, it looked bad, but he wasn’t giving up on her.  If he hadn’t found her body after this long, there was a good chance he wasn’t going to.  Whatever Grace she’d lost in the attack was at least partially recharged by now, as long as she wasn’t dumb enough to keep using it.  And she wasn’t stupid.  Suicidally reckless, sure…but not stupid. 

     His connection to angel radio was still open; it was insanely risky, but if his brothers and sisters somehow found out where she was before he did, he wanted to know about it.  There was always the possibility that one of them would sense his presence, but he knew how to avoid them if it came down to it.  Listening to the Garrison for the past week had only assured him they were having just as much trouble finding her as he was. 

     Without warning, a new sound hit the airwaves, making all the angels buzz in confusion.  Gabriel recognized it in the blink of an eye, and the absolute relief that flooded his veins made the fear of the past week lift from him like a heavy shroud. 

     After a moment, the full impact of what he was hearing—the multi-layered message his descendant was sending to Michael, the sheer audacity of her statement, the way she chose to convey her message—hit him full force, and he started laughing uncontrollably.  It was a stroke of genius that made him wish he’d thought of it first.  His heart swelled with pride for Kyra as he basked in the first human song to ever play on angel radio. 

*Michael*  

     Heaven’s general was frustrated.  His talk with his true vessel hadn’t gone the way he wanted it to at all.  Then again, it was his true vessel; if he wasn’t stubborn as hell, Michael would’ve been sorely disappointed.  The only positive thing he could say about it was that he’d planted a seed of doubt in Dean’s mind, that free will was an illusion. 

     Still, that conversation left him with more questions than answers.  He knew how much Dean loved Sam—understood it better than most people ever could—but why was he so loyal to the abomination?  He claimed her as family. 

     Her existence shouldn’t have been possible.  Nephilim went to the Empty when they died, just like angels and demons.  Human souls were the only ones with a place in Heaven, so she was human before…but how? 

     Her choice of words held some insight.  She said “forefather,” not “father” or “dad,” so it wasn’t an immediate relation.  No, it had to be more distant—but how?  None of the original nephilim survived the purge…but maybe one of them had sired a child?  It didn’t seem likely, but Michael couldn’t think of another explanation that fit.  If it was a bloodline, then only the angel who began the line could awaken the Grace in their descendant after so many generations of being diluted by human blood. 

     The real question was, who could her forefather be?  Over a hundred angels had sired the abominations during that time.  Of those, roughly half of them deserted Heaven after the purge ended, and only ten of that number were ever found and executed.  Heaven’s general had no way of knowing which angel decided to curse him with her existence, whether it was one of those in hiding on Earth or the number still active in the Host. 

     Only Gabriel had known the full story of what transpired back then, but it was entirely possible that he’d told someone else in the time since he ran away.  His little brother didn’t have the nerve to do something like this, but one of the others?  Maybe. 

     Her escape still got under his skin.  She was powered down, as defenseless as a human, and his soldiers had already started destroying her wings—so how was she able to overpower and kill them and escape so quickly?!  For that matter, how did she keep herself hidden so long?  Every available angel not serving duties with the Apocalypse had searched for her since her Grace first shook the cosmos with its awakening, but only three angels successfully located her—all by accident—and all of them were killed before they could report their locations. 

     As much as Michael hated to admit it, he’d underestimated her.  She was smart enough to avoid detection for months.  Regardless of how she escaped, she wouldn’t surface again until she recovered…but even then, she probably wouldn’t dare to confront him with— 

     A strange noise broke his train of thought, making him listen in confusion.  What was that?  The Host was buzzing with puzzlement, but a few seconds later, he realized he was hearing music of some kind.  The beat was angry, unapologetic and—fury burned through his Grace at the realization, but no amount of rage could drown out the words of the nephilim’s message. 

“ Careful  making wishes in the dark-dark 

Can’t be sure when they’ll hit their mark-mark 

And besides in the mean-meantime 

I’m just dreaming of tearing you apart 

I’m in the de-details with the devil 

So no, the world can never get me on my level 

I just  gotta  get you out the cage 

I’m a young lover’s rage 

Gonna  need a spark to ignite 

My songs know what you did in the dark 

So light  em  up, up, up 

Light  em  up, up, up 

Light  em  up, up, up 

I’m on fire 

So light  em  up, up, up 

Light  em  up, up, up 

Light  em  up, up, up 

I’m on fire” 

     As the chorus played, Michael started to regain control of his temper.  He understood the message better than his siblings, the nuance and symbolism behind the lyrics.  Their confusion was irrelevant, though.  He knew it was meant for him. 

“Writers keep writing what they write 

Somewhere another pretty vein just died 

I’ve got the scars from tomorrow and I wish you could see 

That you’re the antidote to everything except for me 

A constellation of tears on your lashes 

I’ll burn everything you love then burn the ashes 

In the end, everything collides 

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see 

My songs know what you did in the dark 

So light  em  up, up, up 

Light  em  up, up, up 

Light  em  up, up, up 

I’m on fire 

So light  em  up, up, up 

Light  em  up, up, up 

Light  em  up, up, up 

I’m on fire” 

     Part of him wanted to rip the nephilim’s wings off personally, but now that his anger was in check, he couldn’t help but feel ashamed.  He gave false orders in Father’s name, forced his siblings to destroy their spawn, and executed those who refused.  He knew what he’d done was wrong, even when he first gave the order on her kind, but everything had quickly snowballed out of his control.  Once the lie was told, he couldn’t retract it without making himself a pariah.  Really, he would've been lucky to escape execution for his sins. 

     The nephilim was taunting him with the song, but it wasn’t a random selection.  No, she was clever.  She wasn’t just announcing her survival.  It was a threat, a warning, and a promise all in one.  She still knew the truth, and she wasn’t going to stop.  The failed attempt on her life just made her even more determined to orchestrate his downfall. 

     A shiver of dread shot through Michael at the realization.  This Kyra was highly intelligent, well-trained, and held almost unlimited power—and he’d just given her the most deeply personal reason he possibly could to destroy him.  For the first time in his long life, he wondered if his days among the living were numbered. 

     It wasn’t over.  Not by a long shot. 

Chapter Text

     Dean poured himself a cup of coffee, even though he just wanted to lay down and sleep.  He’d just told Sam and Cass about the archangel sending them back to the present, but not before Dean paid the price of talking to him first. 

     “Wait, he wanted to talk to you?” Sam asked. 

     “What exactly did he say?” 

     “Oh, you know.  Free will’s an illusion, I’ll say yes when it’s time, blah blah.” 

     Sam relaxed by a fraction.  “So, the usual?” 

     Cass narrowed his eyes, his expression unreadable.  “Is that all he said?” 

     “No.”  Dean swirled the coffee around in his mug before taking a swig.  “He asked about Kyra, too.  Wanted to know where she is.” 

     “Not that surprising,” Sam said, automatically pulling his phone out and dialing Kyra’s number. 

     “What exactly did he say, Dean?” 

     “He said a lot of things, Cass,” Dean snapped.  “But right now, he’s pretty obsessed with finding her.  He kept asking where she is.” 

     “Good question,” Sam said as he hung up the phone, his expression worried.  “Straight to voicemail.” 

     The angel breathed a sigh of relief.  “At least they haven’t found her again.” 

     At his words, Sam and Dean shared a look, making sure they heard that last part correctly.  “Again?” Sam echoed. 

     “When we left, Gabriel was still searching for her.  We knew Heaven’s forces had found her, but when we arrived, her attackers were dead and she was gone.” 

     “And you couldn’t tell us this before?!” Sam yelled. 

     “Seriously, Cass?!  Why the hell didn’t you tell us?!” 

     “Because we don’t know exactly what happened!” Cass said defensively.  “It was shortly after when I learned of Anna’s plans.” 

     “So you left Kyra on her own to save us?” Sam asked, clearly upset at the thought. 

     “No.  Like I said, Gabriel was still searching for her when we left, and he wouldn’t stop until he found her.” 

     “That’s just great, Cass.  You know what the arch-dick with wings told me?  When they caught her, he ordered them to destroy her wings!” 

     The angel never showed much emotion, so the absolute horror on his face made Dean’s blood freeze in his veins.  Suddenly, a muffled explosion came from the TV, sending up a cloud of smoke as the screen shattered, making the brothers jump in alarm. 

     “No…” Cass whispered, his voice breaking as his jaw trembled dangerously. 

     “Cass?” Sam asked quietly, shocked at his reaction. 

     The angel ignored them as he jumped to his feet and started pacing, clearly agitated.  “No.  An assault of that severity would’ve killed her—she must’ve escaped before they could finish.  But…” 

     “But?” Dean prompted. 

     A shudder ran through the angel.  “To even attempt such a thing—you’re human, you wouldn’t understand.” 

     Sam and Dean shared a look.  In the time they’d known Castiel, they’d learned he usually avoided the finer details of angelic culture.  Trying to get him to explain anything was like herding cats.  Instead, Sam asked carefully, “So you didn’t know she was hurt?” 

     “We found…feathers.”  Castiel’s jaw tightened.  “We knew they were hers, but we assumed she’d simply been wounded in the fight.  With her wings damaged, she won’t be able to fly.  She’s restricted to human forms of transportation.” 

     “And with her warding tattoos, it’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Sam concluded. 

     “Perfect.  She can’t fly, heavenly douches are actively hunting her down, and we still have no clue where she is.” 

     “As soon as I’ve recovered enough energy, I’ll join Gabriel in the search.” 

     “Hang on a sec,” Sam interjected, raising his hands in a stopping gesture.  “We were gone for what, a week?  Maybe she’s turned up.  Maybe Gabriel or Bobby knows something.  Let’s see what they know first before we lose our damn minds.” 

     Dean took a shaky breath.  “Yeah, you’re right.  Cass, get in touch with Gabriel, see what he knows.  We’ll call Bobby and find out if he’s heard from her.” 

     The angel nodded, then marched into the bathroom and shut the door.  All Dean could do was shake his head.  Maybe he wanted privacy, or to be able to focus more on the conversation with Gabriel. 

     After a nod from his brother, Sam dialed Bobby’s number and put the call on speaker.  It was six in the morning in Sioux Falls—barely daylight—but he answered on the third ring.  “Hello?” 

     “Hey Bobby,” Sam said.  “It’s us.” 

     A relieved sigh came from the older hunter.  “I reckon you boys got the job done, then.” 

     Sam cleared his throat.  “Yeah.  Hey, have you heard from Kyra lately?” 

     “Thing is, we heard some stuff, and we wanted to make sure she’s okay,” Dean added. 

     The heavy exhale from the older hunter sent a shiver of dread through Dean.  “Wish I had, boys.  Gabriel’s been tearing the planet apart trying to find her.  He stopped here once or twice while he was looking—that’s how I found out she’s MIA.  Wherever she is, she’s doing a damn good job of staying off the grid.” 

     “Any chance we can track her phone down?” Dean asked. 

     “No dice on that one.”  Dean hung his head at the news.  So much for an easy solution.  “He found her phone in the warehouse when he went back to see if there was anything he missed.” 

     “So we have no way to find her,” Sam said quietly. 

     It nearly made Dean sick to think about, but he had to ask.  “You think she’s…?” 

     Silence reigned for a moment.  “I’ve been checking every hospital and morgue in a hundred-mile radius of where those bastards attacked her.  Nobody with her description’s turned up yet.  I don’t know what kind of shape she’s in, but she’s alive, wherever she’s at.  I’m sure of it.” 

     “She’s gotta be,” Dean said, more to assure himself than anything else.  “What the hell happened?” 

     “She’s always been so careful about keeping herself hidden from the angels,” Sam mused.  “How’d they find her?” 

     “Hell if I know how they tracked her down,” Bobby said.  “But knowing Kyra?  She’s holed up somewhere with so much warding, no one’ll find her till she’s ready to be found.” 

     “Yeah, you’re probably right,” Sam agreed.  He hesitated, sharing a look with his brother.  “But from what Cass told us…I’m worried, Bobby.” 

     “After I told him about Michael…I think it’s worse than we thought.” 

     “What did Cass say?” 

     Sam sighed.  “It was more like…how he reacted.  Turns out Michael gave the order to destroy Kyra’s wings, and when he heard that?  I don’t know, he wouldn’t explain, but he was horrified.  I’ve never seen him get emotional like that.” 

     “Balls…” 

     “Where was she attacked, anyway?” 

     “Some warehouse outside of Portland.” 

     “Portland?” Dean echoed, surprised.  “What the hell was she doing there?” 

     “Running for her damn life, ya idjit,” was Bobby's response.  “Gabriel said they were already chasing her.  That’s just where those assholes caught up.” 

     “Did Gabriel say anything about what happened?” 

     Bobby sighed.  “He didn’t give a lot of details, but it sounds like she tried to go after Michael.  Bastard flew off before I could ask why.” 

     Both brothers’ eyes widened in shock.  “What?!” they screeched in unison. 

     Suddenly, the conversation with Michael flashed through Dean’s head again.  “Hang on—Michael said something about her spreading lies to the Host.” 

     Sam shook his head.  “Doesn’t sound like her.  I mean, she’s damn good at kicking the hornet’s nest, but outright lying isn’t her style.  She hates it.” 

     “Unless the bastard was lying through his teeth,” Bobby said slowly, thinking out loud.  “If whatever she told them was true.” 

     The brothers shared a look.  Knowing Kyra—and from what they knew of Heaven’s general—that possibility sounded much more likely. 

     “Did he ever say what she told them?” Sam asked his brother, making him shake his head. 

     “All he said was she was spreading lies and unrest in Heaven, that she had to be silenced.” 

     “Maybe Gabriel knows,” Bobby said.  “If he drops in again before she turns up, I’ll—” 

     The way the older hunter stopped talking mid-sentence made their blood run cold.  “Bobby?  What is it?” Sam demanded. 

     After a pregnant pause, the answer finally came.  “Her car’s gone.” 

     “What?” Dean asked. 

     “It was here last night, but it’s gone now.  And it wasn’t driven anywhere.  I would’ve heard it,” Bobby confirmed. 

     When Dean looked at his brother, he saw the same relief mirrored in his eyes that he felt.  Kyra’s car was warded so thoroughly, she was the only person that could ever hope to locate or move it by supernatural means.  When they were on the road, she refused to ride in any other car simply for the protection it gave her. 

     “So she’s definitely alive,” Sam said, “and getting ready to hit the road.” 

     “It’s the first sign of life I’ve seen from her in a damn week.  I’ll take it.” 

     “Wish we knew what kind of shape she’s in,” Dean said. 

     “One problem at a time, Dean.” 

     At that moment, Castiel emerged from the bathroom, his expression unreadable.  “I just spoke with Gabriel.  He hasn’t found Kyra yet, but he’s convinced she’s alive.” 

     “So are we,” Sam informed him.  “Her car disappeared from Bobby’s sometime last night.” 

     The tension in Castiel’s shoulders eased slightly at the news.  Before he could speak, Dean asked, “What’d Gabriel say?” 

     “She sent Michael a message shortly before we returned.  More of a warning, really.  Every angel heard it.” 

     “What kind of message?” Bobby asked. 

     “What I wanna know is why the hell she went after Michael in the first place,” Dean said.  “The hell was she thinking?” 

     The seraph’s expression turned grave as he looked at Dean.  “Gabriel told her things…things I was unaware of until Kyra went missing.” 

     “Such as?” Bobby asked, clearly expecting an answer. 

     “The real reason Gabriel left Heaven.  The truth about the orders regarding nephilim.” 

     “What do you mean?” Sam asked. 

     Cass started pacing.  “We all believed the order regarding nephilim came from God, but it was Michael that passed the order in His name.  That began the chain of events that caused Gabriel to leave Heaven.” 

     “Wait, hang on, wasn’t Michael, like—” 

     “—super loyal to his dad?” Dean finished. 

     “From what Gabriel told me, the pressure of leadership was too much for Michael.  He began making…drastic choices in an attempt to bring God back.” 

     “Why do I not like where this is going?” Bobby muttered. 

     The angel ignored him.  “Michael passed the order condemning nephilim with Raphael’s support, but he didn’t stop there.  Every angel who sired one was forced to destroy their own offspring, or face execution themselves while their offspring were destroyed anyway.” 

     A shocked silence followed his words.  Sam seemed to recover first, his tone deeply unsettled as he stated the obvious.  “Wait…Gabriel had a kid.” 

     Cass swallowed hard.  “Gabriel’s situation was complicated, which made it even worse.  As God’s messenger, he was the only one that knew the truth, but any attempt to expose Michael would’ve resulted in accusations of denying God’s word in order to save his son, which would’ve destroyed his credibility.  If he had refused, Michael would’ve forced him to watch his son die a slow, agonizing death—then for his insubordination, he would’ve been cast into the Pit with Lucifer.” 

     Dean never thought he’d feel sorry for the trickster archangel, but what he’d just learned changed his entire view of the guy.  “Son of a bitch…” 

     “No wonder she went off like that,” Bobby said quietly. 

     The angel nodded, still pacing slowly.  “Her confrontation with Michael was…unsettling.” 

     Sam gave him a look.  “What do you mean?  You heard it?” 

     “Every angel heard her accusations to Michael.  I know now she told nothing but the truth, but the way she phrased parts of it…it seemed like she was intentionally trying to goad him into facing her himself.” 

     “Which parts?” 

     “She said that God knew what she was and still gave the order for her resurrection.  And that God hadn’t returned because He’s ashamed of Michael’s actions.” 

     Dean let out a low whistle, impressed.  “If that’s what she was going for, pretty damn sure she was on the right track.” 

     “So, this message to Michael, the one Gabriel said he heard a little while ago," Bobby started, "how does he know it’s her?” 

     “Because no angel would think to broadcast a human song over angel radio, much less one so…inflammatory.” 

     Dean almost choked on his coffee. 

     “She what?!” he and Sam said as one. 

     “I didn’t hear it myself, but Gabriel told me the message was clear.  She’s alive, she knows the truth, and she’s determined to bring Michael down.  She’s the greatest threat to him now, even more than Lucifer.” 

     After a moment, Bobby chuckled.  “You boys know how she is about her music.  Sure as hell sounds like something she’d do.” 

     The thought made the brothers smile.  “Now I’m wondering what song she picked,” Dean mused. 

     “Well, when she shows up, we can ask her.” 

     Cass looked at the phone.  “You believe she’ll come to your house?” he asked, his tone inquisitive rather than snarky. 

     “This is her home just as much as it is mine,” Bobby said.  “It’s the safest place for her, with all the warding she’s got up.  And if she’s hurt, she needs somewhere to lay low and recover.  She’ll come.” 

     “He’s right,” Sam agreed.  “We all go to Bobby’s anytime we’re too injured to hunt.  If she’s on the move, that’s where she’s headed.” 

     “You boys get your asses here, too.  We don’t know what kind of shape she’s in or if she’s being followed, so I’ll need all the help I can get.” 

     “Yes, you will,” Cass murmured to himself, making Sam give him a concerned look. 

     “Alright Bobby, we’ll hit the road soon,” Dean said. 

     “How far out are you?” 

     “About twenty hours, give or take.” 

     “I'll see you boys tomorrow, then.  Just watch your asses.” 

     “Always,” Dean replied. 

     “Alright Bobby, you too,” Sam said. 

     Once Bobby hung up, the expression on Castiel’s face turned intense.  “We should get to Bobby’s house as soon as possible.  Kyra will need us.” 

     “Nope,” Dean said automatically. 

     Sam frowned.  “What?” 

     “We’re not flying, Cass.  We’re driving.” 

     Cass gave Dean an exasperated look.  “At the moment, I don’t have the strength to fly, Dean, let alone with passengers.” 

     “Oh," Dean said sheepishly.  “Sorry buddy, I thought you were gonna fly us.” 

     “I would if it was an option.”  The muscles in his jaw worked as he looked away, his voice grim and quiet.  “By this time tomorrow, I should have most of my strength back…but Kyra will have a much longer road to recovery.” 

     The brothers shared a look.  It was obvious Castiel was taking Kyra’s situation to heart.  “She’ll be fine, Cass,” Sam said reassuringly. 

     “You don’t know that!” the angel snapped, surprising them.  His next words were less angry, but still full of emotion.  “You have no idea…” 

     A quick glance at Dean made Sam speak quietly.  “She’s our friend too, Cass.  Explain it to us.” 

     The seraph looked away, clearly upset.  “Our wings are a physical manifestation of our Grace—the equivalent of wearing your soul on your arm.  Because of that, they’re very…intimate.  We only reveal them to our closest friends or our mates.” 

     “So you’re saying Michael wasn’t just trying to kill her…he wanted to destroy her soul, her Grace?” Sam asked. 

     Castiel nodded gravely.  “The damage from such an attack is far more lasting than a simple physical assault.  The emotional and psychological trauma alone…”  He trailed off, a shudder racing through him. 

     Unbidden, memories of his time in Hell ran through Dean’s mind.  He had no physical body there; every ounce of pain from his decades on the rack had been inflicted on his soul.  He was all too familiar with that kind of pain.  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered to himself, horrified. 

     When he met the angel’s gaze again, Castiel saw that Dean, at least, had some idea of the severity of Kyra’s injuries.  This time, the hunter didn’t argue when the seraph told them, “We need to go.  Now.” 

The End...for now