Listen. Angel with a Shotgun is still one of my stim songs that I will listen to on repeat ad nauseam. And the pieces of this started falling into place the last time I listened to it for about 3 days straight. I do have it vaguely outlined-ish, I know who the contact is, I have an idea of how that's going to go, it's just on the back burner for now
☆・*☆*・☆
The war between angels and demons, Heaven and Hell, had been raging for millennia. It had spilled out into the mortal world, both sides hiding in plain sight. Battles were called gang wars by humans, and it wasn’t far from the truth. Both sides wanted to claim the realm of humans for their own, and the fights were always bloody.
Lance hadn’t been back to the Angel Garrison in a long time. Long enough for him to have known the grandparents of the humans he hid amongst. He’d been sent on a stealth mission nearly a century earlier, meant to infiltrate one of the demon factions, masquerading as a fallen angel. His initial ruse had worked, the Marmora clan accepting him as one of their own. This was where his problems started. He quickly realized the demons might actually have a valid point. A few valid points. Humans should have their own will to determine their fates, not strung along by Heaven to an end that wasn’t what they were promised. What Heaven threatened Hell was like was wrong too. Neither side knew the other well enough to understand what their true goals were. Lance did, and after a century, he’d determined his side was wrong.
He'd gotten close to one of the demons he was meant to be spying on as well. Heaven strictly forbade personal relationships, deeming them troublesome and unholy. Hell did not, fully allowing demons the freedom to get as close as they wanted with whoever they wanted. Lance understood when he met Keith, the demon carved from ivory and ebony and inlaid with amethyst. He was the most beautiful being Lance had ever seen. He couldn’t help but get closer.
He first noticed his wings changing after fifty years. He and Keith had just escaped a losing battle with far more angels than just the two of them. Lance was hurt, and sank to the floor of the abandoned warehouse, one hand pressed to the bleeding wound in his side.
“Lance, we’re ok,” Keith said, “We’re safe. Let me take a look at that.”
Lance winced as he moved his hand away from torn and burned skin and shredded fabric, gold blood soaking his clothes. It felt awful; even being grazed by an angel’s smite was no joke. His wings lay folded, his primary feathers pooling on the floor. Keith wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t needed to carefully brush them aside to have better access to the bleeding wound.
“Your feathers are turning,” he said while taking stock of the injury. It was pretty bad, but nothing life threatening.
Lance snapped to look, hissing at the pain. But Keith was right. The pure white was becoming stained, midnight blue and tarnished gold bleeding in from the tips. It was his first indication that he was truly falling and no longer just pretending.
Fifty years later, and Lance and Keith were back-to-back in the middle of a fight. They knew it would be fairly close quarters before they headed out that night and came prepared, Keith with a forearm-length blade in each hand, and Lance with a shotgun. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything except pity at taking out other angels. They’d never know how wrong they were, but Lance knew, and he also knew that there was no saving most of them.
Keith’s charcoal and purple leathery wings snapped open, and with a single powerful beat he took off for the air, spinning toward one of the angels. That poor fuck didn’t even know what hit them. Lance’s back was exposed, but he knew Keith wouldn’t leave him unprotected. He heard movement, and spun to face it, pulling the lever on his weapon. He only needed a split second to aim, and another to fire, the concrete block wall painted gold with the felled angel’s blood. Lance stopped, muscles tensing, when he felt the hand pressed between his midnight blue wings edged in tarnished gold.
“Oh, look, it’s the traitor.” The voice dripped heavily with self-righteousness and condescension.
Lance mentally cursed himself. “The fuck do you want, James?”
“What do I want? I want all stained, worthless traitors dead. And tonight I think I’ll start with you.”
James decided to play dirty that night. He was summoning a full smite, bare-handed, directly against Lance’s back. There would be nothing left to save if it was completed. But James had forgotten about Keith in his angelic arrogance, and Lance heard his quiet gasp at the luxite blade suddenly at his throat.
“Let him go,” Keith growled.
“No.” James tried to sound sure of himself, but the tremor in his voice was too obvious.
“Let him go or I’ll cut your throat where you stand.”
James tried a different tactic. “He’s betraying you, y’know.”
Keith scoffed, the dagger’s sharp edge biting in deeper. “Like fuck he is. I know all about why he came to us to begin with, but that’s over. Right, babe?”
Lance huffed a laugh. “Damn right. Sorry, James.”
Keith was sent reeling back at the angelic scream and holy light. Lance moved quickly, but not quite quickly enough, the incomplete smite exploding inches away from his back. Keith recovered faster, throwing himself back into the fight. Lance staggered, but remained standing, watching as Keith sliced his way through the remaining angels, bright gold blood spilling freely over black concrete. James was glowing with his rage, white wings fully spread, and he left the rain-slicked pavement, hovering above the battle.
Lance, between the searing pain and literally incandescent angel, forgot about the shotgun in his hand, instead summoning a smite of his own. It was different now, not backed by the power of Heaven like James’ was, but by his own will. His own anger took physical form, racing down his arm and coalescing in the palm of his hand. James was too angry to notice, and had no time at all to react when the unholy smite was set loose, a concentrated storm cloud of cerulean power crackling with dark gold lightning finding its target. James screamed again, Lance’s smite consuming him. White cracked and splintered into blood red and shining gold and then became black as the smite burned him from inside, not even ash left behind. The rest of the angels lay dead, and Keith flew across the battlefield, catching Lance as he fell.
The last thing Lance heard before passing out was Keith’s worried voice.
“Hold on. We’ll take care of this.”
When Lance woke, it was in one of the Victorian bedrooms of the Marmora mansion. He was on his stomach, instantly reminded of why when he tried to get up. The pain was incredible, and he gave up immediately, collapsing back down to the plush mattress under him.
“We took care of it as well as we could,” Keith’s voice said from the doorway, “But you know it can’t be perfect.”
“’S gonna scar, huh?” Lance asked, muffled by the pillow.
Keith sat in the chair beside him. “Yeah. Kinda looks like a starburst.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “What James said, about you betraying me-”
Lance cut him off. “It’s bullshit. You know that.”
Keith interrupted this time. “No, I know. But you’re still in contact with them. Is there anything they might know?”
Lance turned his head. “No. I don’t even tell my contact the truth, as much as they’re on our side. It’s too risky and they know it. All I give them is the false info to keep throwing the rest of them off.”
“You know I trust you. I think I was just wondering why he’d bring it up.”
“Because, he had no way of knowing what I might have told you. There is nothing to worry about. We’re safe.”
“Ok.” Keith leaned in for a soft kiss, a small smile curling his lip. “Love you.”
Lance reached out, twisting their fingers together. “Love you too.”
“Rest, love. I’ll be back.”
When Lance had fallen asleep again, Keith left, heading for the meeting in progress. Kolivan stood at the front of the war room, the rest of the clan spread throughout. City maps both new and antique papered the walls, battles marked as either won or lost, Keith and Lance’s fight marked with a clear win. Every head snapped to the door when it opened, Keith walking past them all to address Kolivan directly.
“He’s resting, and although the smite was incomplete, the injury is still severe,” he reported, “It will take at least a few days to heal enough for him to leave bedrest.”
Kolivan nodded. “And our other matter?”
“Confirmed. The contact needs to be retrieved. Lance didn’t say exactly, but it sounds like they’re in danger of being found out. I believe their knowledge of Heaven will be invaluable to us.”
“And you still trust him?”
“With my life. Lance came to us as a spy, yes, but he has never once truly betrayed us. Every feather has turned. There is no question at all that he has fallen.”
“Aw, love you too, babe.”
Lance was standing braced against the doorway, clearly still in pain. The fact that he should not at all be out of bed yet was fully ignored in favor of the newest change to the fallen angel. Lance’s once unblemished bronze skin now bore new marks. Wide V-shapes like spread wings now sat high on his cheekbones in richly glowing blue, the same color chasing down his arms and torso in vine-like lines. His once clear blue eyes were darkened like the depths of the ocean, ringed in the same tarnished gold as his wings.
“But I’m going to have to disagree with your assessment. I hadn’t fully fallen yet. Have now. I know none of you have ever seen a truly fallen angel, Heaven isn’t exactly known for letting us live this long. You got the wing thing right, but this is the rest of the transformation. And by the way, Keith’s right. We need to get my contact out of the Garrison before they’re caught.”
Kolivan studied Lance, turning over both Keith’s report and Lance’s new appearance. He nodded once. “We will retrieve your contact. Thace, Ulaz, you will lead the infiltration team. Antok, Regris, you will support them. Lance, can you hide your fall?”
“I’ll need to recover from tonight first, but I think so. But we won’t have a lot of time. I knew James. They’ll be looking for him and when they can’t find him, they’ll be looking for whoever killed him.”
“Understood. Keith, you’re dismissed. Stay with him.”
Lance leaned on Keith once they were out of sight of the rest of the Marmora clan. He was exhausted, both from the fight and completing his fall from grace. Keith was quiet as usual, but there was an undercurrent to it.
“What was it?” he asked eventually, “What made the fall complete?”
“I killed an angel.”
“You’ve been killing angels for a century.”
“Not with my smite I haven’t. That was what did it. Killing one of Heaven’s children with a corrupted version of what they consider to be one of their greatest gifts.”
Keith scoffed. “Greatest gift my ass. What happened to the unconditional love and compassion they’re always screeching about?”
Lance laughed softly once. “Turns out terms and conditions do apply.”
