16 comments/ 18337 views/ 28 favorites Luciel's Children By: beachbum1958 This story has no religious significance, it is not about religion, it's about love, sacrifice, and redemption. I'm not trying to foist my beliefs off on anyone, because I don't actually have any, this is just a story, one that it occurred to me might be appropriate for this time of year, so here it is. While I've played with certain beliefs and mythologies, they're not mine; they've just been used to provide a backdrop for the characters in this story. My thanks to GrandTeton once again for his editing and guidance and assistance with the actual story, and once more making sure the punctuation is correct, and to Alun for reading it first and not hooting with laughter! As always, if you liked it, please rate it, if you didn't, please tell me why; I welcome all comment (even the occasional scary one...) and if you want to email me, please don't forget to include your email address if you would like a reply. Read, enjoy, and don't take it too seriously; it's just a story... beachbum1958 ____________________________________________ Jon Stewart woke with a start, the shreds of his dream trailing across his mind before dissipating; something about Nessa...and dad. He turned his head to look at Nessa, fast asleep still, the morning sunlight not yet falling on her face to wake her like it had him. Even as he looked at her, drinking-in her features, the arch of her lip, the perfect double-curve of her eyebrows, and her rich chestnut hair spread in a fan across the pillow, her eyelids fluttered, the long dark eyelashes trembling, and a green glitter as she opened her eyes fully and smiled at him, her beautiful eyes catching him studying her. "Hello Mister Wolf!" she murmured, her lips curving into her perfect smile, the smile that had captivated him all those years ago, and still worked its magic on him now, even after all this time. "Hello Little Rabbit!" he grinned back, sliding closer to her to slip his arm over her, his fingertips skittering down her back until he could hold and gently squeeze her small, tight, firm little bottom. Nessa grinned at him, even as her own hand slid down his flank, massaging the muscle there before gently cupping his scrotum. "Wasn't last night enough for you, you randy beast?" she grinned, squeezing him gently, "you kept me up half the night, you dirty, dirty boy!" Jon pulled her closer, Nessa meeting him as they kissed, lips searching hungrily for lips as their tongues fenced and swirled together. "Does that answer you, baby girl?" he grinned, his blue eyes shining with need for her. Nessa, no less needful, writhed against him, kissing him softly on his neck, under his chin, anywhere she could reach. Jon held her against him, grinning as she excited him further. Jon played along, squeezing and pulling her buttocks apart, making her gasp and giggle against him as their lips once more met, sealing together while their tongues fought and fenced. He felt himself growing hard again; the lithe young girl wriggling and grinding against him made sure of that. Nessa grinned as she felt him growing against her, his excitement obvious. "Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just dying to fuck me?" she husked in his ear, her vulgarity making him grin even as her hands stroked him to aching hardness. "You're a very rude girl. I think I should punish you!" he murmured in her ear, groaning as she squeezed and fisted him. "Promises, promises!" she breathed, squeezing him hard enough to make him groan. "Are you going to beat me with this big stick, Mister Big Bad Wolf?" she whispered, pumping his cock even harder. Jon trembled with equal parts lust and need as Nessa writhed against him, her nipples fat and solid atop her neat little breasts, burning into his chest as she pressed against him, telling him how excited she was. "I know just how to punish you!" he growled, pulling her thighs apart and planting kisses on the soft inner part of her thighs. "Oooohhh, no, Jon, don't, you know...ooohhh!" she quavered as he kissed her labia, his tongue-tip brushing the hood of her clitoris, making her gasp as a bolt of pleasure shot through her. "Oh yes, do that again...!" she murmured, clenching her teeth as he did, more bursts of pleasure shooting through and through her, each better and more intense than the last. When he finally took her engorged clitoris between his lips and sucked, she screamed in ecstasy as her orgasm crackled through her like high-voltage electricity, her ears buzzing with the force of it, again and again as he continued to suckle at her. His tongue rubbed and teased the sensitive, swollen little nub, making her shudder again and again with the pleasure roaring through her. "Enough, Jonny, please, no more...!" she managed to gasp out, and when he raised his head to look into her eyes, she smiled at him. "Your turn, Big Bad Wolf!" she murmured. Jon slipped between her wide-spread thighs, Nessa holding him as she aimed him, then, as he slid into her, their mutual gasp of fulfilment. Jon took her behind her knees and draped her legs over his shoulders. "Ready, Princess?" he whispered, and at her nod, began pumping into her, Nessa raising up to meet his thrusts, her flushed face, swollen lips, and dancing, jiggling little beasts exciting him even more as they pounded against each other, all thoughts of the outside world gone, nothing existing except the two of them as they fucked each other. No-one could keep up that frenetic pace for long, and all too soon Jon could feel that sensation, that tingling in his balls and the pit of his stomach that told him he was near. Nessa also sensed it, and let herself go, orgasm once more crashing through, blanking all sensation except that of her man pounding himself into her. As she tightened involuntarily around him, Jon could finally hold back no longer, roaring instead as climax took him, his ears popping from the release as long, endless, satisfying spurts of hot cream sprayed into her, filling her, her pussy rippling and squeezing around him, milking him, draining him dry. Jon rolled over, taking her with him, holding her tight as the last tremors and ripples of her orgasm died away, leaving them both drained and warm with the languor of afterglow. At first they were content to lie there, Nessa drifting as she luxuriated in the arms of her Jonny, enjoying the feel of him still hard, still buried deep inside her, After what could have been seconds, or many minutes later, she began slowly, rhythmically squeezing him, smiling slyly at him when he cocked an eyebrow at her. "What do you think you're doing, little girl?" he smiled, and Nessa squeezed him even harder. "I want to play some more, Mister Wolf, I'm not done yet!" she grinned, nipping his chest as she wriggled on him. John shook his head in mock disapproval. "You're such a naughty girl, I'd like to punish you some more, but it's late, we have to get up!" Nessa pouted, and squeezed him even harder, but this time Jon smacked her bottom lightly and gently rolled her off him. "Stop it, Ness, we can't, not again, mum will be here soon, you know she'll want to make up the bed again, cut it out!" "You're no fun!" she grumped, then grinned as her eyes sparkled with mischief, opting instead to roll on top of him again and tickle him, the one thing he had no defences against. As she tickled him, she glanced out of the window, and there he was, the way he was every day, standing and staring at the house, longing and loss written on his face. As always, she waved at him, hoping to catch his attention, but he never waved back; all he ever did was stare at the house from outside the fence, his eyes roving from one end of the house to the other and back again. Jon stood up and held her to him as she gazed out of the window. "Jon, why won't he come in? All he ever does is stand there and stare; he can come back if he wants, can't he?" Jon sighed, his sudden exhalation tickling her ear. "He can't come in here; he can't set foot here; there are laws stopping him doing that; he has to stay there. That was what was decided after everything that happened. Come away from the window, Ness, we can't do anything about it, and it does no good brooding on it." Nessa turned and hugged him, her fingers gentle on his back as he turned her away from the window, deflecting her thoughts from things that could never be. As they hugged, he squeezed and massaged the firm flesh of her naked flanks, making her wriggle and giggle, until he suddenly poked his fingers into her sides, her main ticklish spots. Nessa shrieked and giggled as she tore herself away from him, but he grabbed her again, tickling and kissing her, and things were just getting interesting when they heard their mother's bedroom door open, so they reluctantly pulled their clothes back on. Nessa just had time to pull the bed-covers back up before the door opened, so they soft-footed into their adjoining bathroom and slipped out of Nessa's room, flitting quietly down the stairs and into the dining room. * Breakfast was the usual Saturday morning: poached kippers, bacon, poached eggs and toast. Jon and Nessa both listened interestedly while their mother and Jemma, their younger sister, talked about university. Their sister was eighteen now, and she'd be going to uni at the end of summer, all the way up in Edinburgh, where she'd be studying medicine. Jon and Nessa were inordinately proud of Jemma; they'd never made it to university, and now their baby sister was leaving the nest to study medicine at one of the best medical schools in the world. As they talked, one thing June, their mother said, caught them completely off guard. "I'm really proud of you, Jem, getting into Edinburgh, and I was thinking; rather than saddle you with massive student debts, we could sell this place and get somewhere smaller, nearer to Edinburgh, and use the difference to offset your fees. I know what this place is worth. If we sold it right now, we can buy a place in the Midlands and still have more than enough to take care of all your fees and expenses for the full five years; it would be a shorter journey for you to come home as well. What do you think?" Jon and Nessa stared at each other; move? To the Midlands? Now wait a minute... Jemma looked blankly at her mother, then shook her head firmly. "No, mummy, please don't sell this place, this is home, everything's here, daddy, Jonny and Ness, you; please, I'll manage, I promise! Just promise me you won't leave here..." Jemma put down her mug of tea and stared at her mother, tears already brimming in her clear green eyes, so much like her mother's, like Nessa's. "This is our home, mum; this is where we all grew up. It doesn't matter what happened here. This is where I'll always want to come back to, this is my home, please don't give it to strangers!" She started crying, and June spent the next few minutes soothing her and reassuring her that it was just a thought, not any kind of intention, but if she was sure, then they'd stay put. Jon and Nessa both heaved a sigh of relief, making June turn her head and look straight at them, a puzzled frown passing across her face before going back to comforting Jemma. "I'm sorry, Jem, I didn't realise you were so attached to this place; I just thought, a new life, a new start, away from...everything..." Jemma shook her head emphatically. "No mum, everyone I love, they're right here, you, Jonny, Ness, daddy, too, he's still here, please don't do this, promise me...!" She collapsed weeping into her mother's arms, while June calmed her and stroked her hair. "Whatever you want, baby, if you're sure, then that's what we'll do. Don't cry, baby, we're not leaving here..." June took her youngest daughter up to her room, then, when she was satisfied the storm was over, came back down and started clearing away the breakfast things. Saturday was June's shopping day, so once breakfast was done, she would take the car and drive into Uckfield from the small village in East Sussex the family lived in and stock-up for the week. Today was no different, so Jon and Nessa slid into the back seat to accompany their mother. June spent a pleasant morning passing the time of day in the various small grocers' she used, preferring to shop locally rather than use the giant supermarket chains, so Ness and Jon sat and waited in the car, knowing how long their mother could take when she wasn't in a rush. Eventually June appeared with a couple of bulging carrier bags which she dumped in the rear of the blue Renault Laguna estate car, and made ready to drive home. "Oh damn!"she muttered, and jumped out again, hurrying over to the florist across the road and returning with three posies of bright summer flowers, then started the engine. However, instead of heading home, she took the A272, eventually pulling into Walstead Cemetery, stopping near two small, matching white headstones. She got out of the car, taking two bunches of flowers with her. "Hello my darlings!" she murmured, laying one bunch on each stone while she rooted the dead flowers out from the flower-holders on each grave. The names were deeply etched in the stone, but beginning to weather and blur: 'Jonathan Kier Stewart 18 April 1983- 17 June 2005', and: 'Vanessa Merry Stewart 6 June 1985- 17 June 2005' June busied herself arranging the new bunches of flowers to her satisfaction in the little ceramic flower-holders, brushing leaves and twigs from the graves, tears running down her cheeks as she did so. Nessa always wanted to hug her mother at these times, to try and drain some of the grief and distress from her, but it was forbidden; no touching the living, no interacting in any way; this was the price they paid for being allowed to remain near their loved ones, and it was times like this that she regretted her choice, but that was the choice she'd made; do this, and be with her Jonny, or move on and find out what came next. Jonny had made his choice with no hesitation; wherever Nessa was, that was where he would be too, always and forever. His mother's grief tore at him, but he understood and accepted the price he had to pay to stay here with his precious Nessa. June knelt on the warm grass between the two graves, and through her tears told her two oldest children that their sister was going to medical school, and that she loved and missed them every day. After a while alone with her thoughts, she stood up and dusted herself off, then picked her way through the ranks of headstones and grave kerbs until she came to another simple white stone, tucked away alone against the wall in the municipal section of the graveyard, unconsecrated ground. The name carved there was also deeply etched but starting to show weathering; 'Richard Kier Stewart 22 December 1961-17 June 2005' Once again, June busied herself cleaning the flower-holder, and arranging the new flowers, tears running down her face as she tidied her husband's unconsecrated grave, the grave of a suicide. When she finished, she knelt back, steadying herself on the weathered white stone. "Why, Ritchie? They were our babies! No matter what they were doing, they didn't deserve that; now they're gone, and you're gone, everything's in pieces, because you couldn't stop yourself! I love you so much Ritchie, but I hate you; you took my babies from me, you didn't have to, there were other ways, but you did that to them, and then you did this to yourself; you knew what the church says, but you did this, and even when this is all over, I'll never see you again. Why, Ritchie, why did you have to kill them?" Nessa stood back a ways, crying along with her mother, her hand gripping Jon's tight as their mother's emotions gusted over them, watching helplessly as June wept for the man who'd killed them both when he found them together. Both Jon and Nessa knew he hadn't meant to; the shotgun wasn't even supposed to be loaded; he was just trying to scare them, but it had gone off, and when he'd seen what he'd done, he'd turned it on himself. And now he was lost to them forever; there was no absolution for what he'd done to himself; even the church he'd loved had rejected him because he'd taken his own life. Every day, they could see him, standing outside the fence, unable to see them, hear them, interact with them, doomed to forever stand alone outside the place where he'd committed the one unforgivable sin. Jon and Nessa had forgiven their father; his crime had been inadvertent, his remorse immediate and overwhelming, but he had taken his own life, and their forgiveness was immaterial; there was only one fate for suicides. Nessa was still unaware of her father's fate, or the true extent of his punishment; Jon had asked that it be kept from her. Otherwise her guilt would cripple her, knowing that their actions had brought about this about. And so, when they left this place, Nessa would forget again what she'd seen here, that her father lay in unconsecrated ground because of what he'd done, and that he was forever lost to them. So Nessa fretted constantly about why their father stood in plain view, yet never acknowledged her, never even looked at her. The drive home was, as always, sombre and sad; June had loved her family deeply, and still loved them all, despite what had happened, and her weekly visit to the graveyard was one of the high-points of her week, once the rush of remembered sorrow had died away. She was convinced her two eldest children were nearby, too; odd sounds at night, things misplaced or missing altogether, to turn up suddenly somewhere unexpected, the sense of their presence she sometimes felt, the faint traces of Nessa's favourite perfume at odd intervals, all combined to convince her that her children were near. Once home, June swung into her normal Saturday routine: cooking lunch, gardening until late afternoon, then starting dinner. Jon and Nessa followed her around, taking as much of her presence as they were allowed, and being as much a part of the family as they could, while Jemma did her thing with her friends. Nessa preferred to sit in the Rose Arbour, her favourite spot since childhood, leaning against Jon as they watched their mother garden. June could feel eyes on her, if her frequent glances at the Rose Arbour were anything to go by, but Jon and Nessa knew she couldn't see them. For some reason, they could only leave the house if their mother did, not Jemma, so they did what they always did: roamed around their home, watching their sister grow from small child to confident teenager, and staying as close to their mother as the rules allowed. That evening, however, as Nessa looked out of the window at their father, once again staring at the house, she made a decision; if he couldn't come to her, then she would go to him and tell him that she loved and missed him, and that he could come in, his family still loved him. She told Jon, but he just looked sadly at her. "It won't work, Ness, believe me; I've tried, but I suppose you need to find out for yourself. I'll wait for you here. I know how this goes, Princess, I don't need to see it again..." Nessa slipped out of the house and walked towards where her father was standing, but something was wrong; no matter how long she walked, he was always the same distance away from her; the path to the fence was only a few yards long, and yet as long as she walked, she was no nearer the fence, and her father had made no sign that he knew she was near; he stared and stared at the house, pain and loss plain on his face, but she couldn't approach him, she couldn't comfort him. Finally, she gave up, sinking to her knees in defeat, tears on her cheeks at the realisation her father was forever beyond her reach. Luciel's Children Jon's hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality, and she looked around to see his expression, pain and loss there too. "Come on, Ness, there's nothing we can do; we have to leave him, those are the rules." Ness held hands with her brother as they slipped back into the house to watch the remnants of their family have dinner and share, however vicariously, in whatever family togetherness was left to them. The love that night was, as it was after every visit to the cemetery, subdued, toned down, less a celebration of their life after death and more a remembrance of things past, but there was an edge to it, a certain lack from Nessa. Jon knew, without knowing how he knew, that her attempt to reach their father was preying on her mind, and he could see certain questions beginning to bubble to the surface, questions she'd so far been unaware she should have been asking, and memories awakening that she'd been compelled to forget. They finally fell asleep, but it was a restless, fitful sleep, the disquiet in their minds touching each other's mind, until finally Jon woke in the dead of night, to see Nessa already wide awake, looking calculatingly at him. "Can't sleep, Princess?" he whispered, and Nessa nodded, chewing her lip distractedly. "Tell me about it, maybe I can help..." he offered, knowing it was probably a really bad idea, but the time had to come one day when she'd ask; now was as good a time as any. Nessa looked closely at him, her eyes boring all the way into his, seeking out his innermost thoughts. "This morning, you said something I never really paid attention to, but now I can't get it out of my mind; you said there were laws stopping daddy coming home, that he wasn't allowed to see us, that it was 'decided' after what he did. What did he do? Who decided? I didn't. I know he never meant to hurt us, I saw the look on his face when the gun went off, I looked into his eyes and there was nothing there but horror, no anger, no hate, even though he caught us...doing what we were doing. It was a mistake, a silly, stupid, meaningless accident, like a car-crash, yet he's trapped out there, and I can't get to him, and I want to, I want to go to him so badly, just so I can hear him once more, and tell him I know it wasn't his fault, and that I love him. What's stopping me going to him, Jonny, why can't I reach him, you know, don't you?" Jon listened in dismay as she asked the questions he really didn't want to answer, the questions he'd specifically requested she never be curious about, and now she'd asked them, and there was nothing he could do except answer them, and hope she could weather the guilt and horror that went with those answers, the way he'd had to for the last ten years. Jon realised he needed some help here, that this was something he needed guidance on. "You called?" said a suave, urbane voice, and Jon whirled around, to see a tall, slender man in a stylish black suit, a crisp white shirt, and a black bootlace tie with a silver enamel clasp, his jet-black hair slicked-back and glossy, and his hands nonchalantly shoved in his pockets as he lounged elegantly against the wall. He looked young, until you saw his eyes, and then the realisation came that something from beyond time itself was staring back at you. "Well, aren't you going to say hello?" he smiled sardonically, and Jon relaxed; the voice was different, the face and look ditto, but there was no mistaking that tone of amused tolerance. "Uriel!" he breathed, and the Archangel grinned, bowing theatrically, almost mockingly. "As I live and breathe...or perhaps not; take your pick. Don't bother telling me what's happened, I already know, and now I have to ask; what are you going to do about it? If you remember, when I offered you the choice, I made a few conditions, and in return, as I also remember, you made a couple as well; one of them was that I cloud Vanessa's memories of everything after you were...transitioned...to this life, such as it is, including knowledge of what your father did, and what his fate had to be. Now she's beginning to put it all back together; she always was a smart girl. I suggest you come clean; if she's savvy enough to ask the questions, she deserves at least the truth, no matter how much it hurts; this is the price you agreed to pay, both of you, and I made no guarantees about what you learned along the way." He paused to examine his perfectly manicured nails curiously, like he'd never seen anything like them before. "Odd things, these, I wonder if you people will ever work out why you really have them?" he mused, lost for a second or two, then grinned at Jon. "But back to our problem here; both of you chose to remain earthbound, to live in an eternal 'now', in order to remain with your family until the last of your blood has departed, and I can only guess how that must hurt, but it was your choice. I thought it was wrong at the time when I clouded Nessa's memories, and her knowledge of...certain things; perhaps now is the time to redress that wrong; when you made this choice, it was one of the sorrows I think you guessed you would be heir to." He pushed himself away from the wall and stood up straight, shrugging his immaculate suit coat into place as he continued. "Much as I wanted to give you a good kick for insisting on it, I complied, because, hey, I'm the Angel Of Death, and until you move on, I'm stuck with you, seeing as you're definitely not alive, and you're not exactly dead, are you? I like to think of you as more 'differently alive' than actually walking dead; the truly living can't see you, but you can't walk through walls and rattle chains and go 'whoo-whoo' in dark cellars, and you both feel real and alive to each other, but you're here, between the truly dead and the not dead yet, so you're my headache. Having said that, if it would have eased your sojourn here, then I would have helped you, and giving Nessa that grace was something she needed then. You really should have moved on, you know; the Thrones would have welcomed you, and made you ready for what comes next, whatever that is; that's something I can't know. Now it's come to this; she needs to know everything, so you need to tell her." Jon looked at Nessa, suddenly aware she hadn't moved throughout the whole exchange, and the air in the room had a dead and lifeless feel to it. "What's wrong with her, why is she frozen? What have you..." he began, but Uriel waved him to silence. "Calm down, Jonny, she's fine; we're somewhere in the million billion spaces between one instant and the next, in that place where the universe remakes itself to form the next instant; nothing happens here, there's no time for it to happen in, we can talk all night, or whatever, and she won't even notice, so shut up and pay attention." He stepped forward to take Jon by the arm and pilot him over to the window, to look out at the curiously reddish sky, and the dark shape of his father standing his eternal vigil outside the fence. "You can't do anything about that; it can't be undone, except...no, forget it, you or I can't undo it, but equally, you didn't do that to him, and Nessa needs to understand and accept that; if she feels sorrow, anger, anguish, regret, or guilt, then she will, but she cannot be allowed to take this upon herself; I suggest you lead her slowly into that part. I know that him catching the pair of you going at it like a pair of mink set him off, but you didn't put that gun in his hand; he chose to pick it up, and while what he did to you was a tragic accident, the fact remains, he then chose to use it on himself, and that is the only real, unforgivable sin." He looked pensive, almost wistful, his voice lowered, as he continued. "You, all of you, the children of Adam, were most favoured, always, even with some of the stunts you've managed to pull over time, and for all of you, the mercy from above is infinite, there for the asking; to cast it back in the face of The Eternal like that, well, that's just asking for trouble." He patted Jon on the arm and smiled that sardonic, tolerant smile again. "Just tell her, tell her everything, then, when she calms down, and if you need some back-up, get her to call me. And now I have to go; you're not the only walking dead, you know!" And then the air in the room was alive again, and Nessa was moving again. "...can't I reach him, you know, don't you?" she finished, and Jon nodded, watching her eyes widen at the sudden realisation that things had happened without her knowledge, things that concerned her. Jon took her hand, sitting her down on the bed while he searched for the right words as he put everything in order in his mind. "First off, Ness, what do you remember immediately after, you know, dad...?" Nessa looked puzzled, then once again her eyes widened as memory showed her where something had happened, something significant, and yet she had no memory of it, just the gaps where those things should be. "I remember the noise, the look on daddy's face, then...then seeing you, covered in blood, and me, but we were standing to one side and daddy was crying, then...the funeral, and mummy wearing my St. Christopher medal and putting it on the coffin...my coffin! After that we came home, and I knew that I was allowed to stay because you were allowed to stay, to be with mummy and Jemma until...until something happens, and I don't know what. Why don't I know?" Jon sighed; this was going to be even harder than he'd feared. "Okay Princess, this is what happened. After dad...did what he did, a...a person came to us, and asked what we wanted to do next; he said we were innocent of any real sins, and we could move on, or we could stay with the family, be with them until they'd all moved on, then we could take the next step. We chose to remain, but I asked the...person to remove some of your memories..." Nessa stared at him in consternation. "What person, why would you do something like that, Jonny, after all we were, all the things we promised, why would you do that to me?" Jon took her hands in his. "I had to do it, because of what happened to dad, because of what he did..." Nessa stared at him, her lips two thin lines, outrage in every line of her body. "You had no right, this was me, Jonny, what was so awful, what happened that you had to take my memories away? And what did daddy do? Tell me!" Jon hung his head, sorrow leaping anew as the guilt raged once more in him. "Dad...dad, when he saw what he'd done, he was so horrified, he took the shotgun, and...oh Nessa, I'm so sorry! Dad...he put the barrel in his mouth; Ness, he killed himself!" Nessa keened with grief as his words unlocked something inside her, and now she remembered, and now she knew why he was forever locked out of their existence, unaware of them, alone outside the fence forever. "Jon, we did that to him, if it wasn't for us...oh God, Jonny, what have we done?" she quavered, almost hysterical with mingled grief and guilt, and burgeoning horror as the full realisation of his punishment hit her; for Richard Stewart, because of what he'd done, there would be an eternity of loneliness and rejection. Jon held her close as she wept, muttering soothing words as he stroked her hair, eventually calming her enough to talk calmly once more. "When dad killed himself, you were like this, I thought you were going to lose your mind, so I asked Uriel to step in and help you; the only thing he could do was blunt your memories, and hide some of them completely. Now you remember. If you need to talk with him, just call out to him; he's always listening." Nessa looked curiously at him. "Who's Uriel, and why can he do things like that?" Jon pulled her a little closer. "Uriel's an Archangel; he's the Angel of Death, and now that we're 'dead', or something like it, until we move on, we're kind of his responsibility. He watches over us; he and I talked earlier, and so he restored your memories. I'm so sorry, Ness; I was trying to protect you, I swear!" Nessa sat rigidly as all Jon had told her echoed and tumbled inside her; this was her fault, if she hadn't given in to her urges that day, if she'd only, for once in her life, done the smart thing, none of this would have happened, and dad wouldn't be where he was now, trapped in a place where no amount of grief or repentance would atone for what he'd done to himself. In his grief, he'd committed the blackest sin, and now he was lost forever. Vaguely, Nessa felt Jon move her around so she didn't have to look out of the window at that lonely figure silhouetted against the dawning sky, but her thoughts weren't on Jon, or herself, or the choice they'd made; instead she was thinking about how daddy had taught her to swim, and how he'd held her when she learned to ride her bike, how she'd followed his finger as it moved along the page, the letters slowly coming together to form words and sentences, and last thing at night, how he'd stood and waited for her to say her simple prayers and scramble into bed so he could make sure there was nothing under the bed waiting to grab and claw at her. For the first time in this twilight existence of hers she knowingly cried for her father, for the wrong they'd done him, and the wrong they'd driven him to do. Jon watched Nessa closely that day, watched sadly as she drew slowly but inexorably away from him; it was obvious she blamed him now; she blamed him for not allowing her to understand the consequences of their actions, for removing the memories she should have been allowed to keep, for not denying her that on fateful day. She kept her distance from him, and her mood seemed to communicate itself to June and Jemma; both their mother and sister were quiet, seeking comfort in their own company, drawing away from each other even as Nessa was drawing away from him. That night, Jon waited for her, waited for her soft footsteps as she came to him, but they never came. When he looked in her room, she was gazing out of the window at the lone figure and gave no sign she'd heard him. The next day was the same, and the next night: Nessa enclosed in a shell of guilt and rejection, and Jon alone with his memories and his own regrets. Night after night, and day after day this continued, days stretching into weeks, becoming months; every day, more and more of what they'd once shared slipped away; they could both sense it happening, and still Nessa did nothing to try and alleviate it, and Jon didn't know where to start; all he could do was suffer the torture of being a prisoner in this house, with his Nessa, but apart from her now, trapped here by his own wishes so long ago. Summer melted away and Jemma finally left for Edinburgh and medical school, and now their mother was alone in the house, depressed and lonely, still caught up in the throes of her dead children's grief and anger as the hostility continued. As the arc of their self-destruction spiralled ever tighter, Jon began to consider that perhaps the time to move on was approaching; his reason for staying was simple; Nessa: she was the sum total of all his reasons to be here, and with her slipping further away with every moment that passed, his need to remain was slowly dying away too. Nessa in turn flitted around the house and gardens, always avoiding contact with him, her glances reproachful and unforgiving. Silence between them grew to be a habit, so when one day they passed each other, Jon with his eyes averted, as usual, he was startled to feel her hand on his arm. He looked up, to see her eyes soft and almost normal again, not the hard, unforgiving emeralds they'd been for so long. "Ness...?" he whispered, and was rewarded with a slight upward bowing of her lips. "Jonny, we need to talk, properly; can we?" she murmured, and his heart leaped at the prospect of finally communicating with her again; months had passed, lonely and alone, the year was turning to Winter, and his need to hear her soft voice once more, to touch her smooth skin, and to feel the brush of her hair against his hands and lips was almost overpowering. He wordlessly took her hand and led her to the rose arbour, now just bare branches, the roses and leaves long departed, "I always feel sad at this time of year when I sit here," she observed. "It always seems so dead and blighted; but look, if you touch them, you can feel the life waiting just under the bark." Jonny dutifully stroked the bare twigs, and grinned as he felt what she was feeling. Nessa smiled back at him. "It kind of gives you hope for tomorrow, doesn't it? All seems so dead, but now you know it will all be back again one day, as beautiful as ever." Jon turned to look at her, and took her hand. Nessa didn't pull away, which he took as a good sign. "And us, will we be back again one day, as beautiful as ever?" he whispered. Nessa looked in his eyes, her eyes luminous with unshed tears. "I'm sorry I was so angry, Jonny. I love you so much, and you hurt me and lied to me. I had to be alone; I had to work out how to love you once more after what you did. I know you meant well, but remember what mummy always said? The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. You hurt me, and I think for a while I hated you for hurting me so much, but now I understand why you did what you did. If I ask you now, will you love me again? I'm done with being alone, with chewing on what you did; more and more I think about what we had, what brought us here, and how we felt about each other, and I want that back. Can we get that back, my darling Jon-boy?" Jonny's heart swelled until he thought it would burst even as he gathered her into him, a weight and a great burden dropping away as he held her once again. They kissed, naturally, no fumbling or hesitation, the patterns of their past once more falling into place around them, and so they kissed tenderly, hungrily, that chill distance between them vanishing as though it had never been. It seemed just a heartbeat and they were back in Jon's old room, Nessa in his arms as they kissed wildly, hungrily, trying to make up for lost time. When Nessa reached for his belt, Jonny groaned softly, the feel of her hands on him almost unbearable after so long, and when his hands tightened on her bottom, she ground against him almost desperately, eagerness and longing plain in every line and gesture. "Make love to me, Jonny, please, make it like it was before!" she whispered fiercely, spurring him on. They almost tore each other's clothes off in their haste to reconnect, long months of need betraying them as they grappled together, foregoing foreplay in their rush to once more couple. "Ooohh God, yes...!" gasped Nessa as Jon's engorged member slid into her once more, stretching her open again the way she loved it. "Oh God, Ness, I can't hold it for long...!" gasped Jon, months of enforced abstinence taking their toll. Nessa reached down and jabbed her fingernail into his perineum, the only thing that would back him off when he was on the verge. "Thanks Sis..." he muttered, slipping his arms under the small of her back to raise her sweet nipples up to where he could suckle on them as he pounded himself into her. "Oh yess, oh yes, like that, oh yesss..." murmured Nessa, lifting her hips in time to meet his thrusts, her lips searching for his as they coupled with varying cadence; now slow, languid, savouring the sweetness of their reconciliation, and then fast, hard, hammering at each other as excitement built and patience lost out to need, until: "Ooohh Jonny, yesss, yesss YESSS!" she shrieked, her pussy contracting around him, immobilising him as her orgasm crashed and surged through her, wave after wave. Jon wasn't immune to the moment, and cried out, a hoarse, guttural, wordless shout of fulfilment as his own climax took him, his seed blasting out of him and into her depths, white hot and soul-wracking in its intensity, again and again, until he finally had no more to give, and his body trembled and twitched from the intensity of his climax. Luciel's Children * Jon woke in the pre-dawn grey, alone in his bed, no sign of Nessa anywhere, and no sense of her presence. "Ness..." he called softly, and receiving no reply, climbed out of bed to look out of the window. There, in the garden, was his sister, talking with Uriel; it had to be Uriel, although he looked different yet again; gone was the black suit and the glossy black hair; now his hair was a deep chestnut brown, short and practical, and he was dressed in what looked like some kind of silvery armour, although Jon couldn't focus on it properly, for some reason. For no reason at all, a sense of foreboding swept over him; what was Nessa talking to Uriel about, and why the armour? He ran downstairs and out into the garden, the sense of foreboding growing, coupled with a deep disquiet. Nessa turned her head when she realised Uriel wasn't looking at her any more, an expression of sorrow mixed with determination flitting across her face before she schooled her features into an impassive mask. "Ness, why's Uriel here, what's going on?" demanded Jon, and his heart sank when she looked away, refusing to meet his stare. "Ness, what's happened? What have you done?" he demanded, a sick certainty growing in the pit of his stomach that he already knew. He went to hold her, and suddenly a barrier snapped into place around her, insubstantial as smoke, stronger than steel, preventing him from approaching her. From the corner of his eye he could make out the suggestion of black wings, huge pinions enfolding her, keeping him away from her. "Jonny, please, I have to do this, please don't try and stop me!" she said, her voice soft but laden with emotion. Jon wasn't prepared to listen. Instead he raged against that impenetrable barrier, those smoky pinions enfolding her. "What have you done, Nessa, please, tell me..." he begged her, almost sobbing in his fright and the sick certainty that he knew, but he had to hear her say it. Nessa looked away, at the lone figure of her father, as always, alone and unaware in his own private hell. "I offered myself in exchange for daddy. I did this to him; I owe him this; if I take his place, he'll be free, he'll be forgiven, and he can rest forever. I owe him, Jonny, what happened to daddy was because of me; this is how I make amends!" Jon sank to his knees, his imploring look at Uriel meeting only stony silence. "Please Uriel, don't let her do this, she doesn't understand what she's doing, please, don't..." he sobbed, but Uriel only raised one eyebrow. "The bargain has been struck, Jon Stewart; I didn't come to her and persuade her, she summoned me; Vanessa has made this decision, all I can do is open the way and fulfil the bargain; your father for her. This is the way it has always been, and I cannot intervene, only carry out her wishes. I'm sorry." Jon looked at her beseechingly. "Please Ness, don't, please..." he sobbed, but Nessa refused to meet his gaze, looking only to where their father stood, while tears ran down her cheeks. Jon looked from Nessa to Uriel and back to Nessa, and then it came to him; he could save her, he could stop her doing this, there was a way! "Uriel, I offer myself in place of my sister! I will take my father's place if you will release her from the bargain. I know this is in your power. I will take my father's place!" "Done!" drawled a soft voice, and Jon and Nessa both spun around to see another figure standing in the garden, in armour like Uriel's, but glowing so brightly they could hardly make out his features, except that he was almost impossibly handsome, with silvery-white hair cut in a warrior's bowl like Uriel's. "Hello my brother!" murmured Uriel, while Jon and Nessa stepped back in confusion; another archangel? Why? Who? "Uriel, it has been too, too long; it is lonely in exile, and I am glad to look upon your face again after so long!" Jon and Nessa edged closer together; there was something about the newcomer... Uriel smiled, and suddenly his wings, those barely seen barriers, snapped into view, huge and glossy black, graceful and majestic. "Jon, Vanessa, this is my brother; this is Luciel, the Lightbringer, the Morning Star, brightest of all angels." Jon looked at Nessa, terror beginning to grow in her eyes as realisation dawned as to just who was standing before them. The newcomer smiled sardonically, and also snapped his wings open, huge and bright, glorious in their brilliance, but with a hint of eye-searing black, painful to look-on, but impossible to ignore. "I am also known as 'Lucifer', 'The Lord of Misrule', 'The Lord of Futility', and various other not so nice names, but I prefer 'Luciel'; if you need to address me, then that is how you will address me. And now we have business to transact. As I recall, a bargain was struck, and I have accepted the soul of Jonathan Kier Stewart in full payment for the release of Richard Kier Stewart, who will, as per the original agreement, be expunged of any trace of sin. Your father has already departed, so now I will take my payment." Jon looked at where their father had been, and sure enough, he was gone. Nessa stared at him in horror as he took that first, faltering step toward Luciel, and an eternity of damnation, but Jon was determined to go through with it; he'd made the bargain, and saved his father and his sister, this had to be. One more step, and then suddenly a figure barred his way, huge and hot, his armour glowing as if red hot, a flaming sword in his hand. "This cannot be!" boomed the new arrival. "I cannot allow this!" So saying, he planted his feet wide and thrust his sword point into the ground, his huge hands wrapped around the hilts as he leaned on it, his red hair and blazing golden eyes feeding the illusion that he was made of fire. From the corner of his eye, Jon saw several other figures materialise, their armour shimmering and rippling with their own unearthly radiance, naked swords glittering like stars in their hands, with their huge wings unfurled, barring his way and rooting him to the spot. Luciel looked annoyed at the intrusion. "The bargain was made and accepted, Michael, you have no say here! I own the soul of Jonathan Stewart. This is all in accordance with The Great Bargain, so leave, and take these others with you; they have no business here today either!" Michael shook his huge head slowly. "The soul you are claiming has no smirch of sin upon it; by The Great Bargain you are compelled to release such souls! Do not force me to defend this boy, because I will. I will!" Luciel began to glow with an ever greater brilliance, that tinge of eye-searing black now even more brilliant, a deeper, more lustrous black than the world had ever seen, sickly, malignant, and evil, the colour of horror, madness, and damnation. The sword he unsheathed was so black it seemed to absorb light and reflect none back, a sword-shaped hole in time and space. He glanced at Uriel, who had also unsheathed his sword, and a cynical, bitter smile curled his lip. "You knew this would happen, didn't you, my brother? Was this your plan all along? Because I feel no hesitation in fighting for what is mine. I have my rights by law. You have resorted to trickery to deprive me of what is mine by right; I thought better of you, my brother! Now the gang's all here, Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, Ariel; even Chamuel and Zadkiel are here, so who's first?" Michael raised his huge fiery sword, even as "No, Michael, don't!" rang out. Michael lowered his sword to look sideways at an Archangel in pale blue armour, but with his sword still sheathed. "What now, Gabriel, am I supposed to back away from this honey-tongued charlatan, the father of lies? Remember what happened before! If I'd been allowed to kill him then, none of the things that trouble the world and shake the Thrones would have come to pass!" Gabriel shook his head sadly. "That was meant to be; the Eternal does not reveal anything about what might have been, or should have been; Luciel is my brother, he is your brother; casting him out was merciful, and necessary, and trying to kill him now will shake the Thrones much worse than anything that has gone before! We must weather this, or none of us will survive. We are Archangels, we are instruments of The Eternal, just as he is, and we do not brawl like a gang of ruffians!" He looked at Luciel, enthroned in his terrifying nimbus of evil light, signifying his readiness to do battle, and shook his head. "Don't do this, Luciel! You are the lord of punishment, he who cleanses the souls of sinners, but what will you do with this soul? There is no sin there, only minor venial sins that would not condemn a soul to the pit, so if you take this soul, what will you do with it? Punish it for sins it has not committed? Be gracious my brother, I beg of you. It has been too long since you have been gone, a million, million years since the fall of the Grigori; you, I, all of us, we know what happened was fore-ordained, and still your brothers feel your absence with every day that passes. You tell yourself you revel in what you have become, but inside, you are still one of our brethren, and you too feel the loss we all feel. Does that not move you?" Luciel lowered his sword, the nimbus of awful light surrounding him dimming to nothing. With a clash that made the teeth sing in Jon's head, he thrust his sword back in its sheath, and folded his arms, staring at Jon and Nessa, enfolded and protected as they were in the graceful, impenetrable wings of the other Archangels. "So, Jonathan Keir Stewart, it appears I have no claim on you. Very well, there is no bargain, and I will not reclaim your father. However, I am owed redress. You have agreed with Uriel that you will move on once the last of your blood has departed; so be it. However, you will accept reincarnation, both of you, and, if you do not find each other in your reincarnated lives, when you pass-away, you will both belong to me. Is that merciful enough, Uriel?" "Done!" barked Uriel, before Jon or Nessa could either agree or object. With that, the figures surrounding them clustered around Luciel, all the brothers joining one last time, then, one by one, they melted into a column of light that rose and blended with the dawn. Jon sighed as the overwhelming sense of presence dissipated, and then there was just him, Nessa, and Uriel grinning at them, armour gone, and his usual natty black suit and silver adornments in evidence. "So what now, Uriel, what do Ness and I do now?" asked Jon, and Uriel grinned at them. "It's over. Stay here, move on, it's up to you. You can leave here now, you can go where you want, come back when you like; you're no longer tied here. Just don't go trying to touch your mother, or letting her know you're still around; that's still a no-no! I'll look in on you from time to time; remember, if you need me, just call; whether I like it or not, you're still my responsibility." He smiled, and this time there was no trace of sardonic mockery or indulgence in his smile. "Be well, kids; go and have some fun now, see the world, you can do that now; perhaps you should go and visit Jemma first and see how well she's doing. Bye for now!" * Now that they could leave, Jon and Nessa chose to remain near their mother; the recent events, and their eventual outcome, had lightened the atmosphere considerably in their home; even June could feel it, although of course, she couldn't know why her home felt so light and happy again, after all the years of sorrow and regret. She still heard noises at night; she still found things moved around or subtly out of place, and the occasional sense of her children's presence would make her stop and suddenly look around, hoping against hope that she would catch a glimpse of them. As time passed, June gradually came to accept that perhaps her children were not so far away after all and that they were somehow watching over their home and loved ones. For their part, Nessa and Jon spent their time falling deeper and more profoundly in love every day, their bond slowly tightening into an unbreakable connection. Their lovemaking grew more varied and inventive as they grew together, their joy pervading and enlivening their home, filling it with lightness even on the darkest, grimmest of winter days. June felt it, even though she didn't know what she was feeling, but still she basked in the embrace of her children's love and joy as they loved each other and watched over her. Uriel, watching from a distance, was well pleased; this was going to make what came next a lot easier. Finally the day came when June passed away; she'd chosen to spend her last days in the house where she believed her children still lived, and it was with emotions impossible to describe that Jon and Vanessa watched over her passing. As her spirit prepared to depart, she finally saw her two lost children, and when she smiled at them and raised her hands for them to take her with them, they reached for her, but instead a hand appeared on each of their shoulders. "No children, not this time; this is for someone else!" said a soft voice, and when they looked around, Uriel was there, still as debonair as ever, but that sardonic grin was gone; now his smile was warm and gentle. As Jon and Nessa moved apart, Richard was suddenly there between them, reaching for his wife, to take her hand and hold her to him. "I thought...after what happened..." she murmured, but Richard stilled her with a finger to her lips. "Our children saved me, my love; they offered themselves in my place, and they saved us all, and so I have come for you today." With that, he turned to gently cup Nessa's chin, to brush his fingers across Jon's cheek, and gently brush away the tears on both their cheeks, before turning once more to June. "And now my darling, will you come with me?" June stared at him, her eyes shining, then nodded, a long, slow smile curving her lips. Richard leaned down to kiss her, then, as they turned to smile at their children, the light around them intensified, then died away, and they were gone. "What happens to them now?" asked Jon, and Uriel grinned, once more his old, sardonic, slightly cynical self. "I told you once before, Jonny, a long time ago; that's something I don't know; I can't know, in fact, you could say not knowing is part of what makes me what I am. Wherever they are, whatever they're doing, they'll be happy, that's all I know. Maybe they'll decide to come back and do it all again; whatever they do, it's their choice now." * Jemma and her family remained at the house, and again, Jon and Nessa watched over her all the days of her life, and when it was her time, they were there for her, their last remaining family. Jemma smiled with joy as she once again looked upon her long-lost older siblings, and when they took her and embraced her, she smiled as the years fell away from her, until she was no older than them, young once more in the company of her ageless brother and sister. As she breathed her last, her children and grandchildren gathered around her bed wondered at the calm, joyful smile on her face. And now Jon and Nessa's blood was all spent, none remained on this earth; they had taken their sister through to the place where the light had claimed her, and so it was time for them to move on, as they had agreed so very long ago. "Are you ready, children?" said a well-remembered voice, and there he was, Uriel, the Angel of Death, no longer humorous, witty, cynical, or sardonic; now he had come for them, calm, majestic, magnificent, his true nature finally revealed. "We have a bargain to fulfil. Do not worry, there is world enough, and time, for you to find each other again; just trust yourselves, and trust your feelings." "I'll find you, Ness, I swear; wherever I go, whatever I have to do, I will find you, I love you so much!" Jon promised desperately, kissing his sister one last time, while Uriel watched them indulgently. "I love you too, Jonny, I love you so much, I'll find you, I'll search until I find you, Jonny, I promise!" she whispered, kissing him back just as desperately, loss already rising inside her as she clung to him. Uriel put a hand on each of their shoulders, gently urging them forward. "Come with me, children, it is time. Do not worry; you will find each other. Be brave now, and follow me, you will come to no harm, I promise you." * Epilogue: The two mothers met for the first time outside the primary school on the first day of school. They felt drawn together, possibly because they were a little older than the other young mothers bringing their little ones for their first day. As is only natural, they began talking about their children, both happily discovering that their children were 'miracle' babies; after trying for years, and despairing of ever falling pregnant, they had finally conceived, and their children were born just a few weeks apart. As they chatted, one of the mothers pointed out her daughter. "Look, that's my little girl over there. Her father's so proud of her; she's the image of his grandmother Jemma, and she's just the apple of his eye!" The other mother agreed that the little girl was indeed gorgeous, and looked around until she spotted her little boy. As she saw him, he saw her and waved happily. Even from that distance his bright blue eyes were noticeable. The little girl was even more eye-catching, her brilliant green eyes and mane of chestnut hair striking and immediately noticeable Both children ran to their mothers, eager to tell of their first day at school, but when they spotted each other, they stopped dead, their eyes wide, then, to the astonishment of their mothers, they took each other by the hand and ran to a corner of the playground and began playing together, completely ignoring the other children around them. "Well, I've never seen her do that before!" exclaimed the little girl's mother, and the boy's mother nodded in agreement. "I've never seen him take to anyone so quickly. What's your daughter's name?" "Her name's Vanessa, but everyone calls her Nessa or Ness; how about your boy?" "His name's Jonathan, but he likes to be called Jonny." * In the small and unremarkable black car parked on the corner, where they could see the school playground, Uriel grinned at Gabriel. "See, all they needed was a little help! I don't think Luciel's going to be too fussed; he practically told me to do it. But just in case, I think I'll watch them for a while; it might be fun being a Guardian Angel! We're done here, let's go." The car whispered down the road, pulled into a nondescript alley, and faded from view.