stilljustandrew | [Detroit!AU: the first to come was a fair maid]

Entry tags:

au,
detroit au

[Detroit!AU: the first to come was a fair maid]

Jonathan's vision was pretty well unmistakable. Gabriel's in danger, and doesn't know it -- or at least doesn't know the specifics.

That would be enough on its own, even if Andrew didn't more or less owe him his life.

Gabriel's nowhere to be seen at Milliways, and no one seems to have run into him in the past couple of days. Well, and that's normal enough; there's no reason he'd be here all the time, and plenty of reason to make himself scarce, all things considered. Maybe he's just back home.

Please just let this not be too late.

Andrew writes out a note at the bar giving Jonathan's vision in as much detail as he can, folds it carefully in quarters, and writes "The Trickster (G.)" on the outside.

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This time her shriek is one of combined fury and pain, as her right leg crumples under her. Meg rolls away, out of reach.

Slowly, she gets back to her feet, then turns to glare at him.

Her eyes have gone entirely black.

The two holding him haven't moved; one's voiced a low snicker, and the other's tightened his grip on his arm, and that's all.

Andrew's eyes are locked on Meg, and he's still got that very fey smile.

"Made you look."

The hound stationed at the break in the wall turned at Meg's cry, and is now braced and growling at Andrew.

She silences it with a sharp gesture, and takes a deliberate step on what should be an injured leg. Then another.

One of the men shifts uncomfortably. "We can't-- he has to be--"

"I know that," Meg snaps. She's smiling again, a teeth-baring, feral smile. "He has to be intact. So that he can be used."

Two more quick steps, and she backhands Andrew across the face; not hard enough to break his neck or any other bones, but just barely.

"But I can give him something to remember me by."

The blow would knock him down if he weren't being held upright; as it is, his head rocks to one side, and he has to blink his vision clear of the burst of light that obscures it.

Blood fills his mouth from a gash on the inside of one cheek. Briefly he considers spitting it at her, but swallows instead.

"Oh, I 'member you all right," he manages.

"Good," Meg tells him. "That'll give you something to look forward to, once He's done with you."

"Kneel him," she snaps at the guards, and takes a few steps away. Meg bends to the ground, chalk in hand, and begins to trace the blackened line of the outermost circle.

He tries to brace his feet, but one of the guards expertly pops his knees from behind, and he goes down with a painful impact, biting his lip. He swallows the blood again, tries hard to swallow the rising fear.

(It's easier, in the absence of Lucifer himself.)

"So what's His Worshipfulness want me for?"

She ignores him at first; Meg's busy with her work. It's only when she brings the chalk line all the way around them, leaving a gap of only a few inches, that she straightens. At her quick word of command, both hounds bolt into the hallway, one going in each direction. Meg turns to face Andrew-- and the eager anticipation in the smile she turns on him lights her face with unholy joy.

"Your proven talents, of course." Still smiling, she gestures around them at the shattered room and the remnants of the rings he himself had drawn on the floor, some time ago. "Our Lord has a use for them, and thus for you."

The clatter of claws against the floor signals the return of the hounds, who evidently have found no witnesses, and Meg beckons them into the circle. As they take up guard positions on either side of the men holding Andrew, she closes the gap in the chalk line.

The chalk begins to glow with the same sort of light that he's seen before emanating from beneath Lucifer's feet, and Meg smiles in triumph as power begins to build within the ring.

"Witness how He calls us back through this very portal! And that's only the beginning, Wells. You'll see." She laughs again. "Oh yes, you'll see."

Proven talents. Summoning. A use --

No!

Andrew abruptly tries to bolt upright, shoving hard off the floor with one foot, heaving with his arms against the hard hands holding him down.

He doesn't get far.

The guards maintain their implacable grip and bear down with all their weight, pushing him back into his kneeling stance and pinning him there.

A low hum is rising around them now, as is a sense of growing pressure, and the air begins to shimmer and dance with motes of light. Meg's expression is even more joyous than before.

He keeps thrashing, trying to unfold one leg and kick sideways, trying to throw off their balance.

None of it's doing any good, and the pressure of their grip is building into pain even as the power builds around them.

Under his strangled cry of effort and pain, there's another cry -- this one silent, but not wordless.

Baby --

"Oh, stop squirming," Meg snaps at him. "It won't help you. You're being brought into His Presence -- try to show some dignity, if you can wrap your feeble little mind around the concept."

The pressure around them intensifies even as the hum suddenly rises in pitch, arcing toward some peak--

Andrew's eyes are shut, squeezed tight, his lips drawn back from clenched teeth in a grimace of struggle or pain or terror.

As the hum scales up, his eyes press tighter for a moment, and then open on a bleak stare into the rising light.

The light fluoresces into a sudden blinding radiance, the world going white--

--and when everything clears again, the small group is in the middle of a large hall with a wooden floor and many windows set high in the whitewashed walls around them, and a single figure standing in front of them a few feet away.

Lucifer lowers his hand, and smiles.

The hounds dash off to sit at heel behind him as both guards immediately go to their knees beside Andrew. Meg gives a deep curtsey, then approaches as he beckons her forward, her eyes shining as she looks up at him. He cups her face with his hand, stroking one thumb lightly over her cheek. "Well done," he murmurs.

Her answering smile is beatific. Meg remains where she is as he turns away and walks toward the guards and their prisoner.

He stops in front of them, and once again Lucifer smiles, this time at Andrew alone.

"Andrew Wells. Welcome home."

Home.

Andrew turns his face away from that smile, starting to shiver, feeling as though his guts have turned to water.

The grip on his arms has loosened. He could probably pull free of them.

If he could move.

His smile broadens.

Lucifer flicks his hand at the guards, who instantly release Andrew and rise. One bows, then the other, and they both leave the hall with all speed.

"Should I...?"

He doesn't even glance over his shoulder at her question; his glance doesn't waver from Andrew.

"Leave us," he says. A beat. "For now."

Meg gives Andrew a dark, furious glance, but does as she's told; the hounds follow her.

The door to the hall shuts, and the two of them are alone.

He can look up or he can stand up, he can't do both.

Andrew keeps his gaze fixed on the floor, and lifts one knee to set his foot down.

Utter quiet blankets the hall; a deep, abiding stillness that somehow carries very little of peace.

In the silence, Lucifer watches Andrew, studying him with interest.

Slowly, stiffly, Andrew pulls himself to his feet.

And stands there for several seconds, swaying, before managing to lift his head.

"And here we are. Together again at last."

He's still smiling.

Edited 2010-04-15 04:08 (UTC)

Andrew swallows hard, and clenches his jaw, and doesn't make a sound.

He raises his eyebrows.

"Nothing to say?"

He fought you. And I know it now.

He shakes his head, infinitesimally.

"Ah. I see."

For a moment he just continues to watch Andrew, and then suddenly he ducks his head, smiling a small, self-deprecating smile.

It's Sam's smile, and Sam's familiar mannerism, and Sam's bashful, half-embarrassed tone when he admits,

"You know, I confess that I really didn't know as much about you as I should have when we last spoke."

In all the great wooden room there is no sound but the sharp hiss of Andrew's indrawn breath.

He looks up at him.

"I've since remedied that."

A beat.

"It wasn't hard, in case you're wondering."

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