Chained
I volunteered as a pinch hitter author for the reversebang and I was lucky to write for inanna_maat great piece of art untitled Chained, that you can see right below.
You can find the art masterpost HERE. I was so lucky to get this wonderful artist who made several other pieces to go with my story. I tried to include all of them.
The artist wanted some seriously hurt!Jensen, non-con, torture, violence. I did my best to provide, but you guys know me, I can't have hurt if I don't have comfort, so, there is some comfort in store for Jensen. It was stated as a guideline for the art that demon!Jensen was made prisonner and offered to his ennemis, angels, because he had refused to kill one of them.
I rarely write fantasy and there is a looong author note at the end of the fic for those who are interested in why. :D
Title:Chained
Author:etoile_etiolee
Artist:inanna_maat
Word count:7.5 k
Pairing:J2
Summary:Jensen, a young demon, refuses to accomplish his coming-of-age ritual when he falls in love with the angel he was supposed to kill, Jared. Can Jared save him in time when Jensen is condemned to be offered to angels as a sacrifice? (yes, the answer is yes;-)
Warnings: Mature for non-con, torture (not between J2) and sexual situations.
Beta:The always fantastic firesign10
Disclaimer:This is a work of fiction and isn't meant to be taken otherwise. I make no profits out of this. The story is my intellectual property. Please ask before sharing on website other than livejournal. Thank you!
“Jensen, son of Malach, do you understand the charges brought against you?”
Jensen nodded, keeping his head lowered as was the custom when appearing before the Ninth Circle Council. His wings were twitching to deploy, like they did each time the young demon was nervous or felt in danger.
Except there was nowhere to fly, to run, to hide. Jensen had failed his coming of age mission -even worse, he’d lied about it, and when offered a second chance to confess, he’d refused.
He would receive the Capital Punishment and he knew it. His parents were attending the Hearing -Jensen could hear his mother cry and it hurt, imagining her soft, black eyes filled with tears. His father hadn’t said a word to him since Jensen had been arrested. Malach was an important person in Hell, he had progressed from the second to the seventh circles during his years of service, something that was quite rare. He was ashamed that his only son had failed the rite of passage that marked the beginning of adulthood for demons, at one hundred and fifty years. He was even more ashamed that Jensen had refused to apologize, and that he had even questioned the necessity of the constant war against the angels.
That war had begun before Jensen had even been born. He’d learned everything about it in history class. The war for Earth. Because yes, once upon a time, there had been a third species that had occupied Earth. Demons had Hell as their realm, angels had Heaven, and humans had the mortal world in between.
And then, humans had been annihilated. Those vulnerable creatures, with such a short life span, unable to fly, had succumbed to a Solar Tempest that had burned and poisoned the Earth, leaving a grey and cold land of desperation, crawling with insects and the few surviving animals and plants. It wasn’t a suitable place for demons to live, neither was it for angels, but it was territory and both species had wanted it.
One thousand five hundred years later, they were still fighting for it, and it didn’t show signs of stopping any time soon.
Jensen had been raised in the first circle, as it was custom -had learned all of this with his companions, except… Except the rage that they’d learned to entertain against the angels, Jensen never really felt it. He knew that angels were fierce and unforgiving, knew how many demons had died during the Great Moon Eclipse Campaign. But he also knew that demons were killing just as much as the angels, were not defending themselves, but fighting restlessly. And sometimes, well, Jensen wondered if all of this was making any sense. At all.
When he had entered his 150th year, he had received a mission. An adult demon, male or female, had to prove his worth by killing an angel. A group of ten young demons had been sent to Earth, to a small battlefield in the northern hemisphere, each one with the name of an angel for them to destroy. Usually the missions were easy enough, as the angels to kill were themselves young and inexperienced. Jensen’s mission target was named Jared. He was of archangelic descendant.
Jensen hadn’t killed Jared. Of their group of ten, two demons had died at the hands of angels, seven had successfully completed their mission, and Jensen… well, Jensen had covered his face with blood as was custom, but it hadn’t been the angel’s blood. It had been the blood of an animal, caught in the crossfire.
He’d been naïve to think it would do the trick, but he hadn’t had any other choice, not after meeting his target.
And now, as he waited for his sentence, all he could think about was Jared’s gigantic wings stretching in the wind, the nuances of grey, black, and white of the feathers glistening with raindrops. Jared’s smile, and the way his bright, supernaturally blue eyes had turned to a magnificent color, indescribable, grey and blue and brown blended altogether. “We will find each other again,” Jared had said after helping Jensen to smear the horse’s blood on his face. “We will, trust me.”
“I said stand up!” the President of the Demon Council yelled, ugly and impatient.
Jensen obeyed. He kept his hands in front of him, to show his complete acceptance of his fate.
“Jensen, son of Malach and Orchid, I condemn you to be chained to the sacrificial rock on Forbidden Mountain and offered to our enemies. They will take you and tear you to pieces, or you will be left to die a slow, painful death, abandoned by all.”
Jensen’s mother screamed.
Jensen decided that he could speak, since the punishment couldn’t be any more cruel anyway.
“I accept my fate,” he stated in a loud voice. “And I hope that my act of rebellion will be followed by many, as there is no logic in keeping our people on the path of this destructive war, because only Peace could bring-“
Jensen had to stop there. There were growls and screeches and curses, loud angry voices booming in the circle, and the President was now speaking, louder than anyone combined.
“You abomination, I forbid you to speak!” He said, snapping his fingers to tie Jensen’s tongue.
He was dragged away from the circle by two large demons in armor. When he passed in front of his parents, his mother was on her knees, hiding her face with her long red hair. His father looked at him, his features contorted in an expression of hate. “I don’t have a son anymore!" He proclaimed. “I never had a son!”
Well, that was dramatic,Jensen thought, strangely detached.
He could still hear Jared’s voice. “I’ll always come back for you.”
He didn’t really believed it, but Jensen had decided that holding to the memories of the few hours he’d spent with the angel was the best way to face whatever would happen to him.
The only piece of clothing allowed for the Capital Punishment was a lightweight tunic of dark color. Demons tend to suffer from the cold, although it wasn’t fatal: after all, killing a demon was extremely difficult, you had to have the right weapons. Hypothermia would affect Jensen like a slow, never-ending torture.
The chains were another matter entirely. They were inescapable, carved with symbols that only a few higher level demons even knew the meaning of, and made of an equally secret material that would burn the skin. Jensen’s hands were tied together above his head, and the muscles of his shoulders were getting numb already. His feet were parted by a metal bar, tied in cuffs attached to the bottom of the rock. He was held standing, facing the Sacrificial Rock, so close to it that he could barely turn his head. This was supposed to worsen the punishment, psychologically speaking; there would be no way of knowing his surroundings, or who or what, would be coming for him.
Jensen’s wings membrane was still fragile, because of his young age. They were the color of charcoal and shaped with pointy edges made of cartilage, just like his mother’s, except on his the almost translucent skin crisscrossed by veins would easily break, and soon, if the pain was of any indication. They were trapped on his back, tied up by a fine, but still burning, chain. If Jensen were to expand them, they would break and be torn apart.
That was the situation he found himself in. He tried not to think of the horrific days to come, the only mantra keeping going in his head being: let it be quick, let it be quick.
Who was he kidding? The angels were well aware of the Sacrificial Rock's purpose, and were known never to let an opportunity pass to torture and kill demons that were, after all, being offered to them. They didn’t practice the same customs: they preferred to punish their own criminals themselves.
Jensen wondered what would be worse. This, or the Ever Burning Fires of the Styx -those were for offenses that were forgiven after a number of predetermined years, but rare were those coming back from the Fires able to function normally -most were crazy by the time they were pulled out, or had let themselves die.
Either way, Jensen was going to die. The thought of his own mortality left him scarily numb. Maybe he didn’t realize fully what was happening to him, maybe the little spark of hope inside of him refused to die yet.
Maybe he was too busy hurting everywhere to care. And he’d been here only a few hours. Soon, the pale sun would go down and the temperature would become freezing.
The battlefield was quiet at this hour of the night. Jensen flew to the west, where the tents of the angels were settled, high white things with the lower part flapping in the wind. Jensen’s knife was a strange weight in his right hand. He wasn’t used to flying while wearing armor and had trouble finding the right wind current to help him approach quietly. He saw that Jezebel was already landing. They had been raised together and had fooled around a couple of times, but they were dramatically different. Jezebel had been dreaming of her Initiation for a long time, dreaming of war and spilling the blood of angels in her path. Jensen had never understood how she could be looking forward for a life of murder and pain. They all had to serve time in the army, fifty years at the minimum, and Jensen’s intention was to retire as soon as it would be done. He wanted to study old scriptures, or maybe be part of the exploration brigade, who was wandering the Earth, looking for animals that had survived the Solar Tempest, old human ruins that were still standing and were an incredibly precious source of information about the past.
Jezebel would pass her Ritual Initiation easily, Jensen had no doubt about it. As for himself, well…
Jensen took out the parchment that was tucked in his belt and flew higher, finding a wind current that would allow him to remain high without moving too much. Looking at the piece of paper, he murmured the incantation and saw it caught fire, until all that was left were dark ashes. At the same time, a sign appeared over a tent below, the mark of the soon-to-die, floating in the night. The sign would also be visible over Jared’s head, something that the angels could not see. Demonic magic was an advantage for Jensen’s people. The angels had an array of tricks in their sleeve too, mostly telepathic powers that could be devastating, but they had never learned to use blood magic like the demons did.
Jensen went down and hid in the cover of pines and larches, some of the few trees that had started growing again. Jared’s tent was a few feet away. And now, well…
Too late. Jensen felt the glowing sign behind him, like the angel had known he was coming and had tricked him, moving out of his tent at the last second.
A solid arm slid around his shoulder and over his throat, immobilizing him, a leg lodged between Jensen’s, a hand covered his mouth. He tried to free himself, his wings flapping furiously.
“Are you here to kill me, demon?” A voice asked.
Jensen froze, sure he was seconds away from death. He closed his eyes and waited, shaking. Well, good, he thought, he wouldn’t have been able to kill someone anyway. Never felt the urge to do so, never harbored the hate to feed his soldier life. At least his loss wouldn’t be of any importance for his people.
“Why would you think that?” The angel asked next. “Don’t try to talk, just think about it.”
Well, this one had mastered the art of mindreading, that much was clear. Jensen shook his head. He didn’t want him to know.
But of course, at the same time, he thought. “I’m not a warrior. I don’t understand war.”
“Neither do I, so why don’t we sit down and discuss this like civilized people?”
The angel’s voice was sweet, his body strong. Jensen discovered he wasn’t scared anymore. He was curious. When Jared released him, he didn’t run, or fly, or try to draw his knife. He turned to face him, lighting some fire from his hands so that he could see him.
“I’m Jared,” the angel said, his eyes shifting color.
He was huge, he was gorgeous -naked, like all the angels were. He smelled like cold wind and bread.
Something very peculiar happened to Jensen then, something that hadn't happened to him since he’d been a child, unable to control his joy or enthusiasm. He felt it. His eyes turned their true color. Demons were born with eyes in an array of color, but it was one of the first lessons they learned in school, how to control their emotions. When their feelings were too intense, the black of their eyes disappeared to show the true color. It was seen as a very, very bad mistake for any demon past their first fifty years.
“Green as emeralds,” the angel said, “why would you be ashamed of them, they’re beautiful.”
In the orangey light of Jensen’s self-made fire, Jared looked very young. Angels and demons lifespan were basically the same, and Jensen figured they had to be about the same age.
“Come into my tent,” Jared said.
Jensen frowned. Although the angel’s beauty had visibly had an effect on him, he wasn’t an idiot.Yes, come in my tent, demon, so I can rip you apart.
Jared laughed softly. “Well, fair enough. Let’s walk, then. I take it you will light the way?” He added pointing at the two bright flames rising from Jensen’s hands.
“I’m Jensen,” Jensen said stupidly because well, this man could read his mind.
“I still like hearing you say it,” Jared said easily.
He stretched his hand, his fingers wide, like he wanted to take Jensen’s. And Jensen, well, he stretched his own, careful to put out the fire first. Their fingers touched. It was all the clichés about love and desire in a second, feeling this electric current, this sense of coming home, this adrenaline charge that makes one’s heart beat fast and loud, like it wants the whole universe to know.
“Oh,” Jensen murmured.
“Would you mind erasing the mark over my head?” Jared asked, his voice shaking a little. “Or else your fellow demons will come to find me.”
“Only I can see it,” Jensen said, but he snapped his fingers anyway. “We can’t help each other during the Ritual.”
“Thank you,” Jared turned his head and smiled at him, all dimples and white teeth. “I love your wings.”
“I love your eyes,” Jensen replied, although he was almost certain he had already said that. “I didn’t know not all angel’s eyes were blue.”
“We’re like demons. The bright blue is our mature color, showing our powers. I like to show my eyes for what they are.”
They were now hidden again by the trees, in the dark of the night.
“What are you going to do now?” Jared asked, stretching his wings to embrace the both of them.
“I don’t know,” Jensen admitted.
He wanted to say that they could both run and hide, fly to a desolated place on earth and never come back, which was completely ridiculous, because Jensen couldn’t run away from his people, no one could. He was marked, as all the others demons passing the ritual were, and he would be found, if he didn't come back, because demons liked to bury their own, to let their body dissolve in the Morning Star's Fire, not leave them to rot on Earth. Well, except for those who were found guilty of Treason and abandoned to the angels.
“Don’t think about that,” Jared said. “I know you can feel it too, we must find a way.”
“You are crazy,” Jensen protested. “Maybe you can read my mind, but I cannot read yours. I know nothing about you.”
“Let me show you.”
Jared put his index and middle fingers on Jensen’s forehead, and for a short second, he experienced the angel’s whole life like he was living it. He saw the ever-changing fields of Heaven, just like he’d learned in school. He saw blue skies and wings flapping in the wind, heard laughter, saw an angel with grey hair stating how important this war was, how the demonic spawn of the Fallen had to retreat where they belonged, and he felt Jared’s confusion, felt how uninterested he was when learning how to manipulate his blade. He saw him sneaking out of the Heavens, flying down to earth, felt his need for liberty and kindness, heard angry voices, and then felt so much sadness it overwhelmed him.
Jensen fell on the ground, surprised to feel hot tears on his cheeks. Jared was kneeling in front of him, holding him.
“Jared,” Jensen choked.
Jared wiped the tears away like each one was precious and unique. He kissed him. Jensen’s wings expanded. He moaned, feeling pleasure rising from the pit of his stomach.
They made love there on the ground, in the darkness, and the silence surrounding them was full of unspoken vows.
Afterward, as Jensen was resting on Jared’s chest, he saw that the sun would be rising soon. He heard voices, Enochian cries. He wanted to ignore it, stay in Jared’s embrace forever, he was ready to die to get even just a few more minutes of this.
He couldn’t. Couldn’t put Jared in danger.
“I have to go back. There is no other choice,” he said reluctantly.
“They will punish you,” Jared replied in a fearful voice. “You need my blood as a proof of your killing.”
“Help me,” Jensen asked.
They flew together until Jensen saw the horse corpse in an abandoned field. It had been wounded on his flank and had passed away a few hours ago. Angels would sometime tame horses and ride them. This one had fought for his freedom and paid the price.
“It’s a child of the Earth,” Jared said, tears filling his eyes. “I don’t understand the cruelty of my people.”
He dipped his hand in the horse’s open flank and lift it to Jensen’s face.
“You do not think this is going to work,” he whispered.
Jensen shrugged. “I still want to try.”
He let Jared paint his face with the animal’s blood. “We will find each other again,” Jared was saying. “I’ll always come back for you.”
Always come back for you.
He heard them coming in the middle of the night, knew immediately they were angels because of the noise they made while flying with their large, feathered wings, moving the air violently around them, something that sounded a little like “flap, flap, flap,” whereas Demon’s wings, smaller and thinner, were more discreet. If you flew correctly, you could almost be silent, except for a soft woosh-woosh.
This incredibly loud sound that was coming straight at him, Jensen not only knew that it was made by angels, but that they were at least three of them.
He waited. He could barely feel his arms and legs anymore, his shoulders were regularly shaken by atrocious muscle spasms, as well as his thighs. Jensen had dozed off when night had fallen over the Forbidden Mountain, but had woken up almost immediately, his face crushed in the rock in front of him, his nose bleeding.
Let it be quick, he thought again.
They were three, speaking to each other in Enochian, although most angels and demons had been speaking modern Latin for centuries now. There were two male and a female. None of them touched Jensen for a very long time. They just talked. Jensen waited. Time didn’t mean anything anymore. Maybe a minute had passed, maybe an hour, he couldn’t tell.
Then, suddenly, he felt something cold poking him between his shoulders. That was an angel blade, long and sharp. They could kill demons.
Jensen gritted his teeth.
“Your race will always be the filth of the Creation,” a female voice murmured in his ear. “No loyalty, even amongst brothers and sisters. You were given to us.”
Jensen didn’t speak. It wouldn’t do any good.
“Child of the Fallen, you reek of the depths of Hell, and you deserve to die,” another angel said.
“You deserve worse,” the third one added. “We are the righteous ones, we are here to destroy you.”
Well, good, Jensen thought. Now that you made your little theatrical speech, why don’t you get to it. I’m tired.
Angels were known to inflict physical pain, whereas demons often preferred to use psychological torture. In Hell’s eighth circle, Jensen had seen a Master Torturer reduce demons to tears and utter panic after just a few minutes of whispering in their ears. Jensen wondered what would actually be worse.
Then the torture started, and Jensen forgot all about the difference between demons and angels. He forgot everything he ever knew, except for pain.
He became the pain. Time dissolved as the angels slowly cut through his skin with their blades, each taking its time, each one working on their part of Jensen’s body. He knew the female was responsible for the cuts and lacerations done to his wings, one of the two male was piercing the skin of both his legs, just barely enough to draw blood. It dripped on Jensen’s legs in dozens of rivulets, like he had peed himself, and maybe he had -what the hell did it matter, because he was going to die.
And dying seems suddenly like the most wonderful idea he'd ever had.
The third angel was the worst, probably because Jensen could see him; even in the darkness, as he tore the skin of Jensen's arms, he used not his blade but his bare teeth. He kept talking, this tall, large angel, kept murmuring to Jensen how his blood reeked of sulfur, and how the ground at his feet would be poisoned with it.
Jensen had screamed when the first wound came, but eventually, he couldn’t anymore. At some point, all he could do was to feel his body throb with the agony, alternating cold and hot, washing all over him again and again. He might have begun pleading, his voice alien to himself, so weak and raw. “Please, please please just let it end, please, let me die, please…”
And then it stopped. As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. The sun was rising, Jensen was a mess of sweat and blood, shivering uncontrollably, crying prickling, hot tears of pain because he knew.
Demons were hard to kill.
It took more than slicing through the skin, biting, tearing wings apart.
“Don’t go please, don’t go, just kill me,” he moaned.
“Oh, we’ll be back,” the angel who had tortured him with his mouth and teeth said. “We’re not quite done with you yet, you evil spawn. We’re barely just started.”
A loud, almost deafening noise of wings flapping in the wind exploded in Jensen’s head.
He fainted. There was nothing but emptiness, and still, he knew on some level of consciousness, that he was still alive.
Demons healed fast, which was an advantage, unless you were waiting for death to come and take you. Jensen drifted on and off for most of the day, gasping awake to the agonizing pain each time. When the sun started to set, the temperature dropped to almost brutal depths, and then Jensen couldn’t let whatever it was -sleep or unconsciousness- take him. Added to the sensation of thousands of needle prickling his body doing its job to heal as quickly as possible, in complete overload of his senses, since there were so many wounds- he was shivering violently against the cold, which only added to the pain his body was submitted to.
He knew that come nightfall, the angels would come back. They had given him time to heal so that they could play some more.
It took an eternity and a split second, Jensen couldn’t tell which, but he heard them come. Two males, different from the ones from the previous night. They started by laughing at him, how filthy and disgusting he was, how pathetic. Jensen kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t even sure he knew how to talk anymore. Still, maybe, he could keep quiet this time, no cries of pain, no pleading. Maybe he could keep this satisfaction away from them.
He wasn’t ready for what came next, and the new, feeble determination he had to stay silent was broken without a second thought. Because that, he did not think of that, silly him.
The first angel was pressing his face against the rock, hard enough for Jensen to have trouble breathing. The second angel tore off whatever was left of his tunic and then… and then…
Two brutal hands parted Jensen’s exposed ass cheeks. He realized with horror what was going to happen and started fighting, with as much strength as he could gather, a desperate growl rising from his throat. The angel that was holding him tightened his grip. The other started laughing.
“There there, you disgusting worm, stop squirming and take it. It’s not like you have a soul anyway,” he murmured.
And then something huge pushed against Jensen’s asshole rim, and he yelled until his voice broke.
I’m being raped, he thought somewhere in his mind, where he had retreated. How did I not see that coming?
He started laughing hysterically, couldn’t hold it back or control it, and he knew this was the beginning. He was losing his mind.
The angel pressed over him pushed harder, faster, his fury felt in every violent movement of his hips. “Of course you’re enjoying this, you abomination.”
This is how I’m going crazy, Jensen though, his laugh shifting into nausea, but still, wasn’t that funny as hell, being ripped apart and raped by creatures he’d refuse to kill.
He threw up, the acid bile rising through his nose, choking him, then sliding back into his lungs when he tried to breath, and then he knew. He was going to choke to death on his own vomit while an angel was taking him from behind, tearing him apart, and that was… well, that was all a filthy hell spawn deserved, right?
Laughing again, Jensen felt air make its way through his swollen throat and wondered in some kind of amazement how long his body would fight to be alive. He coughed, saw the rock covered in droplets of blood. So, it would be a slow death by asphyxiation then.
“Stop laughing!” His angel-rapist growled, pushing even deeper, as if he aimed to pierce through Jensen’s guts, if it was possible.
The other angel had released his grip a little. Didn’t make any difference at this point, Jensen’s throat was tightening again. He would lose consciousness soon.
That’s when he heard the wings.
Oh, well, welcome to the celebration, he thought, gasping for air, his fingernails scraping at the rock. The more the merrier, right?
“What is that?” one of the angels questioned in a stupefied voice.
All of sudden, the body pressed against Jensen was yanked away from him. He cried, couldn’t get enough air this time, and the whole world went black.
… No, don’t try to touch it, it’s demon-proof, let me do it…
…Is he? Oh, my God, is he still alive, is…
…Still breathing, we have to get him out of here, quick…
…Why did we miss it? We should have known, we-
…No time to discuss this, Jared, here, help me out before they realize something is wrong up there…
Jensen was on fire. Was he back in Hell, had he be thrown in the Styx? It couldn’t be, because he was flying, air running over him, cold, but at the same time, something was covering him, something… someone was holding him tightly and he could hear… He could hear a voice. “Hang in there, please, Jensen, I am sorry, I am so deeply sorry, beloved.”
And the voice was Jared’s.
Jensen wanted to open his eyes but he couldn’t. If that was what dying was, this strange, surreal hallucination, it wasn’t half as bad as he thought it would be. “I’m ready,” he thought.
“No, stop thinking like that,” Jared answered him.
Jensen smiled. Yes, death was sweet, liberating. If only the pain could stop…
A mattress. Soft. Sheets. Water running over him, warm.
Jensen moaned. He wanted it to stop, wanted to be left alone. He was dead, after all.
“You’re not dead. Don’t worry, it will get better, soon.”
He was lying on his side. Someone was working on his back, delicately unfolding his wings, the membranes stuck together by dried blood. Jensen felt tears escaping his closed eyes. It hurt. Oh, Lucifer, it hurt so bad.
“I know. I know it hurts, beloved, I am sorry.”
It was Jared’s voice. Jared’s hands wiping his face, his neck, his chest. Jensen pried his eyes open, he couldn’t see much except for the angel’s face, eyebrows frowned in concentration, his long hair falling on each side.
“I am still alive,” Jensen croaked.
He tried to stretch his arm, reaching for Jared’s hand. He needed to feel him, to get ahold on him. An impossibly painful electric current shot through his shoulders. He whined.
“Don’t move, please. Let us work,” Jared said.
“It is ready,” a female voice came from somewhere behind Jared. “But I need more blood.”
“Take mine,” Jared said eagerly.
“Demon blood.”
The hands prying Jensen’s wings apart stopped. A deep, masculine voice murmured, “Take mine.”
Jensen drifted off for a moment, or for an eternity, he didn’t know anything anymore. When he came to again, he heard two voices chanting a curing spell. He was familiar with it. His mother specialized in blood magic. Jensen had grown up hearing her sing and murmur with cups of blood into her hands. It had been a soothing, familiar sound from his most early memories, when he had no idea what the world was made of.
He felt tears flowing down his cheeks again. His mother was sweet. She had always been the balance to Jensen’s larger than life, terribly impressive father. He had known from early on that if he had questions about anything, Orchid would answer him, even though questions were not something young demons were supposed to have. They were raised to listen and obey. Some parents would tie their children’s tongue until they reach their hundredth years. It wasn’t considered as a punishment, but more as a way of helping them through their youth when their character was still in the making and they were subject to too many emotions.
Mother, Jensen thought. He missed her. He would never see her again. He wasn’t dead, but he was…
Safe, Jensen. Had that all been a too vivid dream? Was he still caught in it, would he open his eyes to find himself at the Sacrificial Rock, agonizing and waiting for death?
Jensen didn’t want to know.
The chant was getting louder and louder, the vibration of it resonating in Jensen’s bones. He started to shake. His teeth were chattering, he was sweating. This had to be real. Had to.
He blinked, couldn’t open his eyes more than mere slits. Jared. He was still there, in this warm place where Jensen was laid on his side on something soft, and he was holding Jensen’s hand, smiling softly at him, with his wonderful eyes.
“That’s it, Jensen. Hold my hand. I believe it will hurt.”
Hurt? Jensen would have laughed if he had any energy. He knew about hurt, knew about pain. Would never forget.
And then, the vibration grew louder, and something was poured all over his body, drop by drop, everywhere, and every drop was a cold burn, sizzling, making him convulse and shake. He realized he was screaming, couldn’t stop, and that Jared was holding him in place, softly but firmly.
“Almost over,” he said, tears in his eyes.
The chant ended abruptly, and the pain exploded, inside and outside of Jensen’s body, and as he screamed his lungs out, he wondered, how much of it he could take anymore, when was pain too excruciating for one to hold on to his sanity?
Just like the chant, thought, the agony stopped abruptly. It was…
Nothing he could compare to.
The absence of pain after an ordeal. Well, it hadn’t disappeared completely, but the soft throbbing in his guts and bones, running over his skin and his wings was nothing compared to what it had been when the angels had started their cruel game on him.
Breathing after choking.
Feeling cool air after the fires of hell.
Physical pleasure after being so worked up you didn’t know anything anymore.
No.
Nothing was as divine as not feeling the pain anymore.
Jensen opened his eyes.
“Are you alright?” Jared asked his face inches from Jensen’s own.
“I don’t know,” he murmured. “I think I might be.”
Jared smiled, all dimples out.
I love you, Jensen thought.
“I know,” Jared said.
Even with the demonic cure, it would be a long time before Jensen could do anything more than eat, drink, and walk to the bathroom, with some help. He didn’t remember much of the first few days, except Jared was with him, in that room that looked like an old human construction. There was more, but Jensen was too weak to see it yet. “It’s an old house. Protected by magic.” Jared explained, and it was enough for Jensen. It was so hard to concentrate on anything. He’s been given some hot herbal mixture to help with the pain while his body worked on reconstructing himself. That was what got him so sleepy and lightheaded. Angelic remedy.
Even if Jensen remembered having heard and seen other angels and demons, now that the worst was behind him, Jared was the only one he got to see. Jensen didn’t even think about asking questions. He was tired, his mind was a mess. It was hard enough already not to think about what had happened at the Sacrificial Rock, especially that second night. Better not to think at all. Jared was gentle and patient, always careful not to hurt him, always eager to know how he felt, and tell him how sorry he was.
The morning of the fourth day -at least that’s what Jensen thought it was- he felt good enough to remain half seated in bed while he ate, his wings carefully stretched, supported by pillows. He took the bowl of hot cereal mixed with fruits and nuts from Jared’s hands.
“I can do it, just stay close to me, just in case,” he said, feeling lucid for the first time.
Jared nodded, sitting on the bed next to him. “You are here,” he declared. “Completely here, I mean.”
Jensen had to smile at that. “You didn’t give me the herbs, that is why.”
“I know. I felt that you were feeling good enough for the remedy to be administered less frequently. I also felt that you would have some questions soon.”
Jensen sipped carefully at the thick cereal gruel. “I am not sure I’m ready to have those questions answered.”
“I am deeply sorry.” Jared lowered his eyes.
“You keep saying that and I don’t understand why,” Jensen said, almost despite himself. “I want us to try something, Jared. Do not read me. Let us just… talk for a little while.”
Jared nodded.
“So?” Jensen asked. “You saved my life, why are you sorry?”
“I should have known better than let you go back to Hell.”
“I didn’t gave you the choice.”
“I didn’t know what could happen, Jensen. I am a young angel, I was not aware that demons could offer their own as a sacrifice to us.”
“It is not your fault.”
Jared ran a finger through Jensen’s hair. He closed his eyes in contentment.
“There were a lot of things I wasn’t aware of. When you were assigned to find me, it was my second official week on Earth. I didn’t know anything. In Heaven, they keep the young in ignorance, the Elysian Fields are the only place we’re allowed.”
“I saw it. You disobeyed.”
“Yes,” Jared smiled. “I was curious, and I wanted to know more than the only thing that mattered to the people who raised me: how the angels had won the right to occupy the earth and demons had taken it away from them.”
“That is not what I was taught.”
“I know. But, it doesn’t matter that we were both told lies. I, like you, had no choice. When I turned a hundred years old, I had to serve as a soldier.”
“You are younger than me,” Jensen said, finding this adorable for some unknown reason.
“Does it matter?” Jared blushed.
“No, not at all.”
Jensen took one last mouthful of cereal and held it out to Jared with shaking hands. Demons could go weeks without drinking or eating anything, they fed from the energy currents of Hell. On Earth, it was different, and in Jensen’s weakened state, he was fed at least two times a day.
“After we split up, I left the garrison. I didn’t know what to do, or where to go, but I didn’t want to kill one of your kind. Not after meeting you, not even before. I was so lucky they found me.”
“Whom?” Jensen was beginning to feel tired. He winced, and Jared acted immediately, helping him lie down on his side and rearranging the pillows and sheets. He kissed his forehead. Jensen leaned into it.
“The Resistance found me,” Jared murmured. “Two weeks before you were sentenced.”
“What resistance?”
“It’s incredible, Jensen. Demons and angels alike, all over the Earth, hundreds of them -some have never known Heaven or Hell, they were born here. There is so much our people are hiding from us.”
“Hundreds…” Jensen mumbled, shivering in shock.
“Yes. They have ways to hide, they are getting more and more numerous, especially in the last fifty years or so. That’s what I’ve been told. There is a lot I still don’t know, but it is so overwhelming, thinking that you and I, we aren’t the only ones who don’t wish to fight. The resistance has spies in both Heaven and Hell. They have a plan to take the Earth back when they will be strong enough, numerous enough. Without fighting. It’s… wonderful.”
“We have a chance,” Jensen said, yawning despite himself. He wanted to know more.
“Yes, I guess we is the right term. We are part of the resistance now. Here is a safe house, located where a country named Scotland had been before.
“The continent of Europe.”
“There are only ten of us here, because it is for emergency situations, but some headquarters are basically little towns, hidden from the battlefields.”
“I wish…” Jensen sighted. He knew he should show strength and optimism because Jared deserved it. He just couldn’t. Not right now. “I wish I had known before I was sentenced.”
Tears escaped his eyes. He wiped them away in frustration.
“I wish I had too,” Jared said, sounding devastated. “One of the spies of Hell was supposed to warn us, but he couldn’t travel safely on time. I am so, so sorry.”
“Lie down with me, please,” Jensen asked, needing the contact.
Jared complied immediately, facing Jensen and stretching a wing over the both of them. “Dominicus, one of the angels here, he told me that those they send to the Sacrificial Rock are the same angels that are used to torture demons on the battlefield. He told me… Those angels are chosen very young, defective since birth, that they are monsters.”
“Who’s the monster, really?” Jensen let out a bitter laugh. “My own people decided to let yours torture me. Let’s not try to make sense of it, Jared.”
Jared sighed and dragged a finger along Jensen’s cheek. “We can make a life here. Angels and demons all alike. We can have a family here.”
“Jared, it’s too much. Too much to take in. You have to give me time.”
“I felt it, Jensen,” Jared said in a guilty tone. “You are scared of what they did to you, what it can change between us.”
Jensen closed his eyes, trying to chase away the too vivid memory of his brutal rape. “Yes, I am.” He admitted.
“And I am ready to wait for you to be ready, or to spend my life giving you only what you can accept of me.”
Jensen smiled, looked into Jared’s eyes, wishing they would never turn back to their angelic, supernatural blue. He knew his own were green, he was in too deep in his emotions to have any form of control. And maybe he didn’t want to.
“Look in me, all you want,” he said very slowly. “I want you to know how I feel. I can’t explain it to you, it’s too much.”
Jared’s wing pressed softly against Jensen’s side. He stopped trying to hide his own memories and emotions, it wouldn’t do them any good. Jensen didn’t know anything anymore, about who he was, about where he was going, or if he would ever forget those two days at the Forbidden Mountain. Would he ever be able to fly again? See his mother, the majestic grandeur of the circles of Hell, burning in eternal fire?
Jared took everything in. Jensen could see the emotions rippling under his features, passing through his eyes. Tears pooled in them, and Jensen heard himself scream as the angel had pushed inside him, tearing him apart. Jared shook his head and suddenly he was pressing his mouth on Jensen’s, murmuring words of love and freedom and loyalty.
Something bloomed in Jensen’s mind, clearing everything else. It was a blue sky pierced by the sun, and two shadows were flying over it, large, feathered wings, fine pointy ones, as if this was a new creature sharing two head.
It was them.
Jensen fell asleep.
Fin
A/N: I can't write fantasy. Whenever I try, it turns out in some documentary describing a made-up world. You know, those parts in movies or books when a character (or the author) goes on and on about explaining something? Exposition. Those parts that are considered dull if not done well? Those are my favorite. When I read a book or watch a movie, I like to know EVERYTHING. It doesn't matter to me if it turns out into a 3000 words dialogue or exposition, I'm always looking forward to it. Which isn't how it's supposed to work out. And it translate in my stories as I'm imagining everyone wants to know everything right then. Doesn't work like that. I start a story about a world where the people are split in four elemental species. It's a love story, and I start by presenting one of the characters... then three pages later I realize I'm stuck into the politics of this made-up world, explaining the economy, the governement, etc. I can't stop it. My best friend, disneymagics (and a great fantasy author, btw, you should read her Fairy!Jensen story) told me I have to give info gradually, including them in the story at the right places, and because of her, I tried while writing Chained. I think I succeeded. Partially. So, thank you, bb!
So, I started the story thinking: stay close to the plot, don't give away information that isn't relevant. Then, in the last part, when Jared explains to Jensen where they are and what is the resistance, all hell broke lose, and I came out of my exposition transe realizing that Jared had been speaking for 2000 words. I cut most of it, because even if there is still a lot the readers don't know about this world, they know most of the things my principal character know, and I think the story works that way.
BUT of course in my crazy brain this whole universe needed to have a sense, and I built it, and I have this urge to write a little exposé now about it. Please skip if you don't like exposition for the fun of it.
So, here's what I imagined. I used both the supernatural mythology -like the eyes of demons and angels- and christian mythology to built this universe. A long time ago, when humans were still living on Earth, Angels and Demons alike started to live amongst them -a tiny bit of spn mythology right there- and soon, the lines were blurred about who were the good and the bad guys. Angels, Demons and Humans begin to have interspecie relationships, and humans are the reasons angels and demons are now corporeal and mortal -although not as fragile as humans. Wars started amongst all the species, for there is always some supremacist somewhere ready to claim that his people are the best and were there first, or some other bulls**t. Heavens and Hell became tangible, physical worlds as their occupant needed them to shift to accomodate him. When the Solar Tempest hit Earth (guys, I have NO idea what a solar tempest can do, btw. It just looked pretty on paper) most of the humans and the descendant of humans that didn't have a lot of angel or demon blood in them died. Angels retreated to Heaven, Demons to Hell, a lot of time passed, knowledge was lost, history was forgotten. The long lost animosity between angels and demons appeared again, as Earth became less poisonous and an interesting territory to claim. There is no good or bad side here. Just endoctrination passed from one generation to the other.
In my mind, Jensen discovers all those things as he become used to life on Earth, and maybe peace can happen. Of course, Jensen and Jared stay together, because love between angels and demons are a little like how John Winchester describes it talking about vampires in season 1: they mate for life. They have tons of babies because angels and demons don't have a predetermined sex, they choose, growing up, but they still can change to their convenience. And mine, because I want them to have little half-angels, half-demons cute babies ;-)
Okay, exposition is over. Is anyone still awake?
<3
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