six.
Berith groaned as he rolled over, letting his eyes adjust to the light. He would have suspected Na’amah of drugging his coffee but he had his reasons to believe she wouldn’t, as unpredictable as she could be. He rolled over on the bed he found himself on, still waking up as he felt someone beside him.
“Why are you in my bed now?” he grumbled until he started to wake up more and realize that the person beside him was someone else entirely.
He blinked, not sure what to make of an angel sleeping beside him at first.
And this was not just any angel.
Michael.
A smile slowly appeared on the demon’s lips as he leaned over the sleeping angel just slightly.
“Well, good morning, brother.”
His hand was held up to his eyes as he squinted against the bright bedroom lights. The angel was quiet, formidably quiet, as he took the several seconds to re-orient himself. Not his bed. Not his room. Michael glanced sidelong at the demon and slowly lowered his hand before sitting up.
“Where are we?” He asked, scanning the room carefully. “Did you bring me here?”
The windows had been blacked out by paper. Tilting gently away from Berith’s shoulder, he slid one leg from the edge bed and made a motion to move off the mattress.
The demon would have rolled his eyes at the suggestion but he settled for a chuckle as he watched Michael. Though his expression was neutral, his gaze was sharp, calculating.
“Come now, Michael, give me some credit. You would know if this was my doing, as I am sure you recall the last time I was in the business of snatching angels,” he said simply though it was an honest statement. “As for where we are, your guess is good as mine, actually,” he admitted, leaning back against the pillows. He wasn’t in any hurry, if there were innocents here he wasn’t too concerned.
“I was making sure. I gave you the benefit of the doubt.” Michael replied, pushing off of the bed slowly and hearing the springs groan as he stepped out of the way. For him, it was an act of forbearance. The angel walked to the window and peeled at a loose paper shred with his finger. Just beyond the glass was another wall of bricks.
A long, cold pause followed. He was reminded of the Bronx -- it hadn’t been more than five months ago now. Was it happening again? People in pain, people in suffering; and himself, tested to help, but powerless to prevent the casualties. So many casualties. His sense of unease surfaced just below his troubled gaze as he looked over his shoulder. “You don’t remember how you were brought here?”
“How generous of you, brother,” Berith said, not moving from where he was. He was rather comfortable right now after all. “Though I am sure it’s not for the sake of our brotherly bond,” he said, his tone only hinted at the trace of bitterness. So much time had passed after all, for both of them.
The demon, on the other hand, was quite looking forward to the carnage. He was sure he would be in his element. “I wish that I did but one moment I was working at my desk and the next I am in bed with you.”
His own expression became perplexed, and then surprised. “I would never put myself in a situation like this with you.” He said, surveying Berith’s casual posture against the bed. “It’s not in my nature. It’s not in my will to rest with an enemy of our Father.” Rolling the blinds closed, Michael turned and faced the demon with his back against the wall. His hand drifted to his ribs, felt the feeble breath within him that was human, not angelic.
But he loved flesh and blood, and he loved his own humanity, even when his brothers found fault with it. “There’s something very wrong.” He admitted. “Something has descended upon us. And there will be lives, innocent lives, at risk.” Heaven help them now. Who was he to question whether it was God’s will, now that he was this far from home?
“Of course you wouldn’t,” he shrugged, returning Michael’s look. “An enemy? So harsh, Michael, I may be a demon but I never stopped loving my brothers, despite my differences with our Father,” but he paused then before speaking again and this time his tone was actually serious, even. “Though, to you I suppose that doesn’t matter now. You were always the dutiful one, Michael.”
“Innocent?” Berith scoffed with disdain. “They aren’t lambs to the slaughter and if something doesn’t kill them first, I won’t have to encourage them very much to turn on each other,” he remarked, he saw no reason to hide his true intentions to Michael.
“Then find some sympathy for those who value their mortal lives the way you value yours now.” Michael’s gaze fixed on the coffee table and he stooped to his knees after he turned it on its side. The angel steadied the table with one hand and used the other to turn the ornamented leg by the twist of its screw.
Catching Berith’s snide remark a little ways above him, he pulled the wooden leg loose and left it on the floor. “Our fraternity was dissolved when you chose vanity over God. But we are together now, in flesh and blood. And I’m asking you to put that first tonight, as I’ve put it first. You hate humanity and it’s a darkness that I can’t abide by. Worse than the crimes against my brother. Yet here I am, leaving you uncontested, because a greater duty calls. You wouldn’t want to harm me when my heart’s on a graver matter. There’s not enough joy in it for you. So help me, and have your freedom to choose otherwise when we’ve gotten out alive.”
“You know that’s not possible, Michael. There are only so many times sympathy can be abused before it is no longer there,” he said though his voice was without emotion, cold as he watched. He made no move to help though he did sit up a little.
“Perhaps for you, though I know how you draw the line,” he said off-handedly, as if dismissing the matter but there was no forgetting somethings. Berith paused as if he was considering Michael’s words but while the angel was right, the demon wouldn’t hurt him here and now, not yet. However, he still insisted on his own terms. “I suppose you do owe me, so I accept your offer.”
[ooc: backdated to the first day]