"This place is the end of heaven and earth: this has become a prison for the stars and the host of heaven." - 1 Enoch 18:14
Sight did not exist. The only sounds: the beating of his heart and the whistle of stale breath in his lungs. The only sensation: suffocating pressure and the peeling of skin from his body when he tried to move. There was nothing to do but sit in darkness and wait.
And wait.
Minutes, hours, days, years, centuries. It was all the same and he never knew how much time elapsed between encounters.
Waiting.
Approaching footsteps echoed through his skull, leaving bloody footprints in the flesh of his brain. Remaining still seemed suddenly impossible and he strained against ancient bonds and the jagged stone on all sides of him. More flesh scraped away and fell to invisble dust. The other presence was close and he willed himself to be patient for just a little longer.
Waiting.
Cacophony as rocks were moved aside to thud against barren dirt. He held his body motionless, inhaling air relatively free of the dust he'd been breathing for ages. His lungs ached and he coughed, spitting thick, coppery phlegm to one side. Silently, he turned his head in the direction he knew the presence to be.
Fingers made of smoke traced the lines of his face and warm breath brushed over his lips as the presence whispered: "I missed you."
His throat was bleeding again. "Sure."
"Yes." He was pulled roughly from his prison and enveloped in tangled limbs. Heat pulsed through his body and he thrust his hips against the other form without thinking.
"Fiesty." The word was murmured against his throat. He made no reply and his face remained impassive as his broken body was handled in a way that could only be described as divine. If he could have pulled the other closer, he would have, if only to share the searing heat he could feel behind his skin. But his hands remained bound behind his back and his feet tied tightly together. The restraints sawed at his flesh as his body rocked in ancient dust, bestowing crimson rain upon the thirsty ground.
All thought was banished for a while and he existed in darkness coloured with sensation. His chest scraped the desert floor and dust crawled up his nostrils. The backs of his eyelids were bruised, his intestines speared. Writhing, something bled inside him.
Interlude over. Soft kisses flickered across his face as he was pushed carefully back into a crevice in the mind of mankind. The rocks were replaced, one by one. He heard every stone settle into place.
"Later."
"Sure."
The footprints left in grey matter filled with fluid as the presence walked away. Once again, there was nothing to do but sit in darkness and wait.
The next time, perhaps, it would be different.
Noise tumbled down around his ears once more and arid wind cut his flesh as he was pulled from his prison. Waiting for the voice, which came with the tongue.
"I've missed you."
"Sure."
He was sucked into a warm embrace and held against a silent heart. Faintly, the chorus sang and he choked on a bitter smile.
Waiting.
Rocking motions and a liquid mouth burning a path across his chest. A pause, a new step in the dance. There was the rustle of feathers and then lips were at his ear.
"I know what you've been waiting for."
"You couldn't possibly." His voice bled rust flakes form years of disuse.
"Oh, I do." Lips brushed his own, bruising them with emotion. "Dearest brother, I understand you more than you realise."
"Sure." He coughed and reflected that this prattle at least postponed the waiting a little longer. Not that it mattered in the end.
A sigh scattered ancient dust. "undreds of years and all you say is sure. Where are your enticing shouts of rebellion now?" Acid lanced the words.
He shrugged, his bound wrists a constant reminder of things he had dared to think, to say, to do. The person he had dared to be.
"Azazel."
He waited, his head pointed at the only free being on his plane of existence. Finally there came another sigh.
"Fuck it."
Hands were at the back of his skull and then his shadow world was destroyed by thay which he had thought he would never see again: light.
He couldn't hold back the scream that tore from his lungs. His eyes slammed themselves protectively shut but he forced himself to open them once more, squinting past tears. He could see the endless desert, the infinite sky... and the figure before him.
The tawny skin and laughing mouth were exactly the same as the last time he had seen them. Coal-black hair tumbled nearly to shoulders encased in alien clothing, a stray lock trying to cover one of those ancient, golden eyes. Huge wings were catching desert dust as they stared at eachother.
"You're still beautiful, Satan" he rasped. "Although I suspect you know that already."
With a laugh, Satan leaned forward and playfully nipped Azazel's ear. "It's still nice to hear. And for a guy whose been burried alive for a couple hundred years, you're looking pretty good yourself." His dark face studied Azazel's face seriously. "Your eyes must hurt."
"Yes. Why did you remove the blindfold? I'm not supposed to see the light ever again, you know."
"Yeah. But it's just such a pretty day..." He gestured to the dead plains stretching out in every direction, beaten by a loveless sun.
"Really." He wasn't used to so much talking and it made him suspicious.
Satan's fingers found Azazel's wrists. "I'm setting you free."
Shock made his body jerk. "What?!"
Restraints that had seemed part of his own skin fell to the dirt. Slowly, muscles howling, Azazel brought his hands before him and stared. Satan was already busy at his feet, releasing them as well.
The fallen angel stood, unsteady, and stared at his saviour.
"You can't do this," Azazel said matter-of-factly. "God--"
Satan moved forward and placed his finger against Aazezel's lips. "Shhh." he smiled. "That's Gabby's trick, I know. The point is, don't ask questions. Just go."
"Why did you do this?"
Satan embraced him. "Because I can. Now hurry up and go. You need a bath in the worst way."
Azazel turned, then frowned. "Where do you expect me to go?"
"Wherever you desire. You might be interested in knowing there are more of the Fallen on Earth." He spread his arms, palms outward, and shrugged. "I'll see you again."
"Sure."