Chapter Text
In the beginning, there was nothing. Nothing but two angels flying through a vast vacuum, waiting to be moulded. There were no days because there weren't any suns yet. There were no nights, because there were no stars. Not even black darkness, since the colour had yet to be invented. Just blank nothingness, except the two angels.
"Why did you wish to come?" one angel asked the other. This one had dark curls and honey brown eyes, a sword gleaming from his side. His wings were a bright pure white, seeming to almost glow with their own light. "There won't be anything very interesting to see, yet."
"I love seeing the news stars," the other angel said. This one had bright copper ringlets and golden eyes, wings a bluish-black. He held a staff taller than he was, a two-headed snake coiled around the top. In appearance, they were the same age, but one got the sense the second angel was younger. "And I was curious to the process. The new project will require my knowledge, so I need to know all about this place they will live." The first smiled indulgently.
"Ah," was all he said. "Here is far enough." Both stopped and hovered in the nothingness.
"How can you know? This part of this universe has not even been crafted yet." The second seemed baffled by this decision. The first smirked.
"I know," he assured him. "And now, brother, this is how you make a galaxy of stars." The first held out a fist, blew on it and, with a flick of his wrist, flung the small glowing essence out into the world. In that moment, the first star was hung and black nothingness had been invented. It glowed briefly between them as the first angel fluttered around it, poking and prodding, occasionally adding more, but always concentrating on this original.
Slowly, it grew, attracting new dust particles towards it. The second watched in fascination as matter began to take shape, at first the tiny quarks which would make up protons, electrons and neutrons, so infinitesimally small, all smashing together to create matter at a speed too fast for future human eyes.
They hung and watched this galaxy of stars form and come together.
"It's beautiful," the second whispered. The first star drifted its way into the centre. "But why must the first always become like that?" As they watched, the first became so large it exploded outwards into a giant star, pulsing with deep red light. Moments later it collapsed in on itself, became so dense that only angels would not be concerned. Even light could not escape. The first shrugged.
"I tried to make them all orbit the original, but the first always gets too big and collapses in on itself. It is the way of all galaxies. I make sure the others don't drift too close to become the same."
"Do all black stars have galaxies?" the second asked. The first smiled, this one amused, neither mocking nor irritated.
"Not all, no. Sometimes they just collapse in on themselves when I'm not there to catch them. Others, like this-" another star by them had just exploded outwards, but the first caught it and threw, the star shrinking into a collapsed, dense, but harmless tiny dot*, "are saved because I'm there to prevent it from happening." He preened at the sight of the new galaxy^. The second angel smiled too.
"This is amazing. And it will be where the humans will be created?"
"Eventually," the first agreed. "And you'll visit far more often than I, Raphael. You'll be needed to teach them healing." The second, Raphael, glanced at his brother with a faint frown.
"How so? The humans will need to be taught to defend themselves, surely?" Raphael asked. There was nothing said, only silence. "Samael?"
"Father said they are not meant to fight," Samael said eventually. "They are not to know violence, or be taught it as we were." His mouth was a grim line. "My justice will not be needed." Neither spoke of how his hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, fingers tightening around it. Raphael merely nodded.
"They are to have something special, are they not?" Raphael asked instead, not desiring to follow the thread of the conversation through. Samael blinked and then smiled, nodding.
"Yes, free will, whatever that is," he said. He had returned to his easy-going appearance, the stiffness gone from the moment prior. Raphael felt sad, knowing that it was not in fact gone, just merely put to one side, awaiting the right moment to explode out. Usually with either Michael or Amenadiel**.
"Interesting," he commented. He knew better than to bring up the state of his brother's health. Raphael's talent was healing, but Samael hid his hurts and getting him into the Healing House took quite some effort. Whether it be those of the mind or body, his brother felt the need to cover it up with bravado and a smile, no need for the others to worry. Perhaps he knew, or was aware, like Raphael, how the younger ones looked up to him, how they admired the brother so blessed by their Father, that he had been made solely to mete out justice within the universes and beyond^^.
Raphael often wondered how hard that burden was to bear. It ended with Samael flying to other places. He bowed his head, flapping closer to his brother, eyeing this galaxy in which they were to work together and create new life in their Father's name.
"Perhaps I could bring you," he offered, "show you what the fruits of your labour have been?" The others wouldn't understand- their talents were not so dirty as his or Samael's. They only had to defend or fight should war come, and called it glory. They did not have to listen to last words, or swing the sword to those who could not fight back. They did not have to take the news back to the family.
Raphael had taken to the habit of accompanying Samael when he conducted this task, knowing how it weighed on his brother's soul. Michael called him weak for caring, that they had broken the rules and therefore did not deserve Samael's pity, but Raphael disagreed. The family were innocents, had not usually been involved in the affair and delivering the news could be hard. They would weep, or rage, or attack. And Samael would stand and take it all, forgiving them the sin of laying hands upon his person and refuse to fight back. And quietly keep the secrets inside.
Samael smiled at the offer, genuine this time, soft and sad.
"I would like that," he whispered softly.
The woman was washing herself in the stream of the garden. She did this every day much to her husband's chagrin. Raphael, as healer, came often to the Garden, to ensure they had not injured themselves. The first few humans had done so, some having killed themselves by accident, drowning or setting themselves on fire. Some had forgotten to eat entirely, or ate poisonous berries and died before Raphael could reach them. Those did not last long and many of his brethren laughed at them***.
Samael pitied them.
He was watching the woman now, almost in earnest. He seemed curious as to why she, and she alone, had taken to bathing where the man had not. They knew not shame, so wore no clothes, but the man knew not to wash and so became dirty. The woman had watched him in disgust, seemingly unhappy with this man who was her husband. Samael shifted on the rock, head cocked.
"Why does Father not tell the man to follow her lead? It cannot be comfortable to be so dirty for so long. She looked uncomfortable last night." The woman was expecting, the first of the pairs to have done so. Soon, there would be more, although Raphael would have to watch them closely and ensure that the child would come to no harm. He shrugged.
"Because humans have free will," Raphael explained calmly. "They have the freedom to choose whether to be clean or dirty without Father or us or even her dictating it." Samael blinked.
"That's what free will is?" His voice sounded small. "They can… choose?" Raphael winced. Will Father be angry that I brought it up? Have I done something wrong? The humans seemed to raise so many questions between both him and Samael, but both knew they could never voice them to anyone else. Not to mention that there were new angels to be created, new tasks for the younger ones to complete.
"I suppose so," Raphael said, even quieter. "But that is for them, not for us." He paused, watching Samael watch the woman. "Her name is Lilith," he said, uncertain why. "She seemed unhappy with her partner."
"She has the freedom to do so," Samael noted, almost bitterly. The more he brought Samael here, the more the feelings festered. He remembered the day that they came and made this galaxy, that led to this world they now lived on. He remembered how Samael had been, knowing he was not to visit or offer them wisdom, or teachings of his own. How he was not to teach them defence or justice or violence.
How, in Michael's words, he was not to 'corrupt' the humans.
"Yes," Raphael said certainly. "But… it should also be her choice, what she does with her body. The downside of free will. She has the freedom to do as she wishes, but so does he." Samael's face darkened.
"And yet, I am ordered to stay away," he half growled, jumping to his feet, wings puffed up in his anger. "Father would have me stay away from them, not teach them the difference between right and wrong. It's for them to decide," he spat, with great disdain, "for the humans to make that up! And yet we are punished when we question our orders, when we ask why we must go kill this sentient or that! Why I must leave others in grief?!" Rage warred with sorrow in Samael's eyes as he turned away. "But not her. I will not kill her." Raphael blinked as his brother took to the air, flying away.
It was the first clue he had, of the war about to break out.
Below, Lilith had finished her bath and was lazily splashing in the river, oblivious of the turmoil she had caused.
Eve was different to Lilith, Crowley had thought, while whispering in her ear. Easier to manipulate, too trusting and naive compared to her counter-part. Adam had learned well from Lucifer's words, had never touched Eve the way he had touched Lilith. They were not compatible either, really, but Eve, poor Eve, so desperate to find solace and comfort, to give and give and give, had taken the apple and gave it to Adam as well.
And Adam had taken it so willingly.
He approached the angel at the Eastern Gate, curious and keen to watch the pair wander off into the world, created by a single spark so many centuries ago. Not that he would mention it to this stranger, one of the youngest who saw only the back end of the war and knew not why it started. Who never saw the despair in bright honey eyes, dulled to dark brown in grief and rage.
"Well that went down like a lead balloon," he commented, not knowing what the words would mean.
Not knowing that this would be the start of a long and fulfilling life, relationship and love, always darkened by a secret never said between them.