Dead End 2: Deathly Di-Di-Doo Ch.14 (Patreon)

[Love and War]

— Gabriel, Might of God —

“I saw women — and children — burn! I saw men castrated so their lines could go on no longer! All lived in the Holy Land; how could they be any less worthy of peace than you, here in your simple town? They are on the front lines against the evils of Islam, the depravity, the injustice against God Himself!

“I attempted my pilgrimage, as is written, as all followers of Christ should, as I am rallying you to do now! The Saracens — the Turks-!” He spat.

“They stopped me, just as they will try to stop you! Will the faithful allow themselves to be cut off from the holiest of places, where Christ Himself died for our sins?! Will we allow our distant brothers and sisters to suffer in their ancient homes and streets?! Will you join me, faithful of Christ, in storming the gates of Hell on Earth?!”

“Who… Who even is this man?” Gabriel asked herself.

In the mortal world below, she watched a supposedly simple man — a hermit — act as anything but. He preached for crusade, for armed pilgrimage, and people were beginning to listen.

His name was Peter the Hermit, or so he claimed. By Gabriel’s knowledge, he wandered more than he secluded himself. Though still, she hesitated to attribute the word to him — wanderer — for she knew a much nobler soul whom Father had cursed with the title and task.

Peter, to be fair, had a verifiable background to his name with the Church of Rome — he was no chimeric or golemic creation of Hell. His role as the appointed parish priest in the Frankish town of Amiens was sanctioned and valid.

His claims of having visited the Holy Land on pilgrimage, and the evils he’d seen there, however, were much more suspect. And his claims of having Father’s word as Christ on a letter that no one else could see…?

Gabriel wanted to scoff at the supposedly simple man, right in his face.

She did not doubt that he’d ventured wide and far. Perhaps he even made it to the Holy Land and Jerusalem. If he did, he’d disappeared from all but Father’s sight for a time — an easy task when no one thought to watch this supposedly simple man. What happened to Peter during his unaccounted travels, Gabriel didn’t know.

What she did know, from seeing the city with her own eyes, was that Jerusalem was not currently a land in turmoil. Muhammad’s followers had held the Holy Land for centuries without much true pushback directed their way by the Christians in Europe.

It was never a simple and wholly peaceful existence, of course — Gabriel sighed, for she knew the mortal disputes between His followers were destined to be constant, great, and tense — but largely, there was a certain balance in the Holy Land.

Muslims, Jews, and Christians all called Jerusalem home. Places of worship still stood. The Fatimids earlier in the century even allowed the Byzantine Emperor to rebuild the Holy Sepulchre. Pilgrimages continued without much organized interference to speak of.

For the individual, Gabriel had seen very little of what Peter preached.

In the realm of states, however, there was just cause for war. The Caliphates of Islam truly did threaten the Kingdoms of Christianity. And more, the emerging Seljuk Turks had held Constantinople under threat for nearly two decades now, conquering from Armenia to Jerusalem.

Byzantium called for aid as a result. The route that aid was now taking was entirely on the Pope in Rome. He had something to prove over the Emperor in Byzantium; the unfortunately usual East vs. West divide had recently escalated to outright Schism between the faithful. At the same time, he wished for a distraction from problems in Europe and a victory to pin on his name.

But then, Peter was not preaching to states; he was preaching to individuals, all the uninvolved Christians of Europe who, quite frankly, had no business, reason, or true stake in the wars to come.

The masses he preached to were from the heart of Christendom. They would likely never see a Muslim, or make a pilgrimage, or need to worry about the political maneuvering of the Church’s Schism. Not… Not unless Peter drove them right into the mess with misled fire in their hearts.

Without a doubt in Gabriel’s mind, the whole situation was either the outright work of Lucifer or almost entirely to his benefit. The Devil was subtle, but Gabriel knew he played every side.

He certainly had influence placed in Rome. He certainly had fear spread in Constantinople. He certainly had contracts for conquest behind the Turks. And he certainly had touched those who ventured to the Holy Land — perhaps even one who’d disappeared along the way…

Gabriel had no proof Peter was so corrupted by Hell. He likely didn’t know it himself. The Devil was subtle. A vision of atrocities here, perhaps, and an obstruction to travel there, and Peter would return home to spread righteous rage, just as Pope Urban II called for a more organized, state-oriented crusade.

It was why she was here watching him and his People’s Crusade rather than the Pope’s.

She had every confidence that the latter would be… well, war, waged by men with experience and casus belli. It would be as messy as all wars were, but ultimately, nothing new for the mortal world.

The fervored mass Peter was rallying did not inspire the same confidence.

Only a sliver of them had experience in war. The majority were simple people with simple lives, now whipped into a fury that was equal parts faithful and fearful. They had no concept of logistics, the harsh marches of a campaign, how to keep their people in order, or what would happen when the blood of men ran hot and high with ‘victory’.

Gabriel was the Might of God, Father’s hand in all things war. These misled fools were not making war.

She wished Cain had stayed…

IIIII

She really wished Cain had stayed. Gabriel would never know the hearts and minds of men as well as he did. And she could really use some of that knowing right about now.

A community of faithful burned, all because she hadn’t known enough to expect madness.

Lorraine, Cologne, Worms, Speyer, and Mainz; Gabriel had thought it a fluke in the first town. She realized it was a feature by the fourth.

“Run, run, run, little Jew!” A mob roared in the streets of Mainz.

They bore down on a small boy, terrified out of his mind. Gabriel could only watch as the mob caught him. He was run through with pitchforks and left to hang against a wall.

Gabriel desperately wished she could’ve intervened. But faithful as both sides were, or ‘faithful’ on the side of the mobs, it was not her place, nor was it the place of Heaven. This was a mortal matter — a terrible and atrocious mortal matter.

Father instructed that matters of men be left to men. Heaven could guide men and defend them against threats they could not see or comprehend, but they could not rule men.

Gabriel’s hands were terribly tied. She could only watch.

Another mob ran a Jewish family out of their home and set the man of the household to the torch. The mother and the children were left to flee and were told to spread the word: Jews were not welcome anywhere the People’s Crusade set foot.

They hadn’t even made it to the Holy Land, only as far as the River Rhine! There was a whole journey across all of Europe still ahead of them! What massacres still awaited? What chaos? What madness?

Within her heart, Gabriel raged, for she knew that even if Hell had a hand in this madness, much of it was still the fault of the men who gave in to it.

There were Devils skulking around Peter’s gathered Crusade, now some tens of thousands strong and still growing. Gabriel could feel their corruption like dirty water upon her pristine wings. They were canny, though, not undertaking any of the maddened work with their own hands.

The only Devils who worked on Earth were the best of the best, the agents of Hell who had proven themselves over a millennium of war. The youngest from both sides of the Great War — the foolish and fodder — were sent to the endless Siege Upon Heaven. That left only the most lethal, insidious, and effective Devils to do Hell’s work upon Earth.

Still, just as Lucifer sent only his best unto the world, so did Father. Gabriel was capable. She would not fail him. His enemies lurked in this maddened crowd, and she would smoke them out.

… She just really wished Cain had stayed. He would’ve been able to act upon matters of men. He would’ve stayed these massacring hands.

There: Gabriel’s attention swiveled.

A Devil had made a mistake; just a flash of Hellish magic in the crowd. Gabriel saw him. A Valefor with their thieving clan trait; the demon couldn’t resist taking trophies from those dead at his words of influence.

“Cast in the name of God,” Gabriel whispered to herself — a reassurance and statement of fact, for Father had forged her so. “Ye not guilty…”

She was his martial arm, the sword he did not hold. And down, down, down, she swung.

The Valefor Devil was not given the chance to blink. From above, the Might of God crashed down onto him. Gabriel isolated the scene from the still-rampaging mob all around. They deserved to see none of God’s work now.

From head to groin, Gabriel’s golden spear impaled the Devil and struck him down. Even as she did, her eyes were up and open. She was looking for any other reactions to the Devil’s sudden slaughter. Its fellows would give themselves away.

And there! Gabriel left her golden spear within the Valefor. It burned Hellish matter to purified ash. Another was summoned to her hand as she darted towards the second Devil she’d seen.

That second Devil — a Purson — put up more of a fight. His cloaking illusion fell as Gabriel saw him, revealing a bestially mutated ‘man’ riding a brutal bear.

The Purson wielded the bear as if they were of the same flesh, and a cavalry sword in his hand. He fended off her initial thrust and her second as she turned her spear in a sweeping circle against the mount below, but he could not stand against the Might of God for long. Sword met spear, and Gabriel’s strike snaked around the defense.

Burning gold met Hellish flesh. The Purson Devil screamed as righteous Might scorched him to the bone. Liquefied by Light, the meat upon that bone ran like water. The Purson faltered. His mount roared and reared and reached to push her back.

Gabriel dropped her spear, still embedded in liquefying flesh and burnt bone. She didn’t summon another, instead falling back on a move she’d learned from Cain.

The Might of God — her fist — shot forward into the Purson’s skull and right out the other side. Obliterated in an instant, the Devil’s body, mount and all, fell like a puppet with its strings cut.

Gabriel looked for a third in the chaos of Peter’s Crusade. All she saw was more mortal evil. Peter himself had taken a sword to a Jewish man who tried to defend himself, having his lackeys hold down the victim so even a hermit could run him through.

Gabriel frowned at the scene, having long since damned the man in her mind. Still, she could do nothing against the corrupted fool himself. She knew there were still Devils lurking; they could be heard in whispers on the wind.

They didn’t reveal themselves, didn’t face her directly, but the chaos and madness that had come to Mainz surged under those whispers.

She knew they were there, and they knew she was there. It was a stalemate that neither side could break. In a direct fight, the Might of God would strike down all Devils. And in a competition of influence, the Devils held all the cards.

… Gabriel really, really wished Cain had stayed.

IIIII

“By Father’s mercy, Cain, it was terrible! And they had none to spare! They are incensed and insatiable! They are as likely to turn on fellow Christians as they are Jews; forget what they will do to the Muslims!

“And-! And Peter! That man…! He is an affront! 100,000 rallied to his so-preached cause, and he preens! He struts, as 20,000 are lost in Hungary! He extols himself and their just, divine mission while another 20,000 are culled outside Sofia! All the while, he organizes nothing! He leads only further fervor! He rides momentum utterly out of his control!”

Uncharacteristically, Gabriel was ranting. Following the People’s Crusade across Europe had pushed her past her usual limits of civility, for the mobbing mass had none to spare.

When the mass of simple people turned anything but passed through the glorious city of Constantinople, Gabriel was reunited with Cain — finally. It’d been a long trek through Europe. The chaos and madness of Peter’s self-proclaimed ‘pilgrimage’ started early, and it clung to the mass as it grew.

They picked up people by the dozens and hundreds at every stop along their path. Those joiners came with no supplies to their name, nothing but the shirts on their backs and petty swords in their hands. Thus, the logistics of Peter’s pilgrimage were always in flux.

In Hungary, the People’s Horde went, ironically, hungry. Several times, food ran out, and more could not be sourced from the villages, towns, and even cities along the route. There was a limit to how much could be sold; the throng did not even realize that!

One riot had gone so strong that it stretched for days, starting in Zemun, burning Belgrade, and then maintaining momentum over the march to Niš.

Gabriel was actively relieved to see the mass encounter Byzantine soldiers after that. Proper soldiers, with discipline and logistics; they’d culled the People’s Crusade by a quarter, and still, Gabriel could not find it in herself to mourn for the rioting dead. She had even blessed the Byzantine soldiers, if minutely, to help them return peace to their lands.

All the while, Peter the Hermit’s preaching had grown with more and more outlandish claims. ‘Visions!’ He claimed, of justifying atrocities in the Holy Land that he could somehow see from there. ‘And cause!’ He insisted, of the word, work, and will of Christ on their side.

He continued to flash that unopened letter that was supposedly from Father as Christ at every opportunity.

“I am certain that Hell has touched him deeply. He does their bidding more than Father’s, and he knows it not,” Gabriel declared.

Cain let her rant, listening and giving her his fullest attention. His focus made something flutter within Gabriel; he heard what she’d gone through and what she’d seen on the pilgrimage’s march, and he cared.

“I-… I really wish you would have stayed, Cain,” She admitted.

Reunited with him after mere months that felt like years, Gabriel so dearly wanted to-…

Cain put an arm around her shoulder and let her lean on him. The close contact took away her worries like a breeze; Gabriel — finally — let herself relax.

He agreed, “I should have. My hand would’ve helped keep… things from getting so…”

“Out of hand?” Gabriel suggested with a suppressed giggle.

After months without, following a riotous mob, the small bit of humor was welcome. She usually took pride in her stoicism, her strength, for the spear of God should stand firm. Around Cain, though, she didn’t feel the need to be so-…

“Are there still Devils in that mass?” Cain asked.

“You know well how hard they are to purge,” Gabriel confirmed. “I did my best — some dozen agents of Hell fell by my spear — but still, they persist. The influence grew stronger throughout the march.”

“Hm, I’ll bet they called for reinforcements, then,” Cain considered. “Especially after seeing how effective the mob was at spreading chaos and… fear.”

Gabriel nodded in agreement. “They claim it still, but I don’t think there is more than an ounce of faith to be found throughout those 60,000 souls that remain. Firmly misled and only spiraling into more with each act of disorder, Peter has turned them fully to fear.”

“Do you know their plans now that they’ve crossed the Bosporus?” Cain asked.

Gabriel could only frown. “Plans? I would not call anything they have in mind by such a name. I know they are awesomely hungry and terribly eager — it truly baffles belief how unprepared they are. I suspect they will immediately turn to rioting and razing, just as they did in the lands we passed through. And I know they will not discriminate in those efforts. What of the situation here?”

“The Turks retain the upper hand,” Cain said. “They hold as far as Nicea, with Constantinople under constant threat. The good news is that they’re mostly distracted farther east and south. I could see the crusades pushing them out-…”

“Cain,” Gabriel said flatly. “I have watched this mass from inception to present, and it has been ruinous all the while. They could not push back a herd of horses, though they would slaughter, loot, and rape their way through it.”

Cain chuckled, “I meant the actual crusade, the organized and sanctioned one. They aren’t far behind now. Honestly, I would’ve thought you’d be watching over them, not this rabble.”

“If only,” Gabriel sighed.

She shook her head. “No, I was needed more here, even if it has been an utterly shameful display of supposedly ‘martial might’. The Devils I killed are proof of that. I hesitate to even voice it, but… it could’ve been much worse.”

Cain raised a hand to pat her head, still leaning upon his shoulder. The simple act was more reassuring than Gabriel could put into words.

“You did your part, all that you could without the ability to intervene directly. Our work isn’t done, but you can let me take up the matters of men from here.”

Gabriel gave a small smile, even as she wanted to grin and giggle. “Devil and man, none will know what hit them. I’m glad you’re here, Cain.”

“…” Silence greeted her statement — thoughtful, worrying silence. It was as if Cain didn’t know if he should give voice to-…

“I’m glad I’m here as well, Gabriel… With you. Now, let’s do what we can to limit the damage.”

Her brief worry disappeared in its entirety; Gabriel nodded, refreshing her determination at Cain’s side. “Let’s.”

Then, from On High, Gabriel felt an embarrassing sort of approval and heard Father’s voice, “There’s that commitment I like to see!”

“Butt out, Old Man,” Cain snapped.

Gabriel gasped, “Cain!”

“We talked about this,” Cain continued, speaking to Him in Heaven. “It’s between Gabriel and me!”

“C-Cain…?” Gabriel asked, unsure why her cheeks were beginning to grow hot.

Laughter — His laughter, free and unconcerned — was the response. “It is, it is! But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy how well you two sail together!”

“Ships again…? What could it mean?” Gabriel muttered to herself.

“Oh, and by the way: Peter has officially lost control.”

“He never had it.” Gabriel scowled.

“Then, more accurately, the agents of Hell have finally stepped into the open to make their climactic move towards division and disorder. A third of that supposed crusade ran off to Xerigordos and has already been slaughtered almost to a man. The rest heard Devilish rumor of their fellows’ ‘success’ there and are now rushing to Nicea to get a piece of the… ‘fun’. An army of Turks lies in wait for them along the road.”

“Who?” Gabriel asked, fuming at her failure. “What Devil did I miss within the mob? Who leads their efforts now, Father?”

“Hmm~? Oh, that Bael girl. What was her name again? Cain knows her well enough.”

For some reason, Father’s last sentence made Gabriel’s wings bristle, as did the sigh Cain gave in response.

“Venelana, joy. Why are you so set on stirring shit? I thought you were rooting for-”

“*DING*”

The sudden sound in Heaven cut Cain short. Gabriel cocked her head. “Father? What was that?”

“Just my popcorn, child. Pay it no mind. Now, you really must get moving. Worry not your heads and hearts, for I am always watching…”

Father’s words filled Gabriel with joy and a sense of safety. They didn’t seem to have the same effect on Cain.

“… Fucking God.”

“Cain-!”

IIIII

“Oh, Cain? Yes… Yes, you are here for me, aren’t you? It was inevitable, I suppose. Only an evil such as you is fit for one of my pedigree, a future queen of Hell, of course. ’Tis written, verily. Join me, finally, as is destined, and we will do… terrible things together~…”

The Devil squealed and screeched and slavered over what wasn’t hers with Lust and Greed and Pride.

Not literally. Barely metaphorically. The Devil princess was more composed and ‘noble’ than most Devils Gabriel had seen. But Gabriel knew… At just a glance, she knew the obsessive sin in that Devil’s heart.

The Bael princess that Cain supposedly knew… was an objectively attractive Devil. She was tall and elegant and built for sin. Venelana Bael… Gabriel hated her at first sight.

Bael and her cohort of Devils flew above the slaughter below that they’d incited. The People’s Crusade had run into the army of Turks waiting in ambush, just as Father said they would, and they didn’t stand a chance in Heaven nor Hell.

Armored men carved into peasants and paupers. The ground was painted in life-blood crimson. Perhaps one Turk fell for every dozen so-called crusaders.

Gabriel did weep for the lives lost, but she couldn’t bring herself to weep for the end of that mess.

Peter’s mass of rabble had been a playground for Hell from start to end. Gabriel had tried — oh, how she’d tried to save them from themselves and the corruption of Devils. It pained her that her efforts were for naught. The agents of Hell were subtle and competent, with a millennium of experience working in the shadows of men. They’d played around her like the whole business was a dance, and only now, at the end, did they reveal themselves.

Alongside the Bael princess, Gabriel spied Amons and Buers and Beleths and Maraxes and Sabnocks — all capable and trusted by Hell. They were the types of Devils who would be wasted in the Siege Upon Heaven, and Gabriel had to give them the caution they were due.

Caution… but never respect. For their crimes under her vigil, Gabriel had already sentenced all of them to death by her spear and His Might.

“Venelana,” Cain replied to the Bael’s presumption with an even tone. “Do you really think that’s what’s happening here?”

“Why would it not?” Venelana cocked her head, genuinely bemused by the question. “Surely you, Humanity’s First Evil, are not standing side by side with the Archangel?”

“He is the Son of Man, forged in his father’s image by God, just as he is Humanity’s First Evil,” Gabriel snapped back in retort.

Every Devil present flinched at His name. The least of them — a lowly but likely guileful Bifrons — fell right out of the sky when His Might said His name.

The Bael princess was the first to regather herself.

“You are… protective of him, Gabriel,” Venelana observed. “That is a surprise. Or perhaps not. Of course, the greatest of Man-made evils could deceive even you! Ohoho~!”

She covered her mouth and laughed, and Gabriel was not too proud to admit she fumed at the false statement.

“I know him more intimately than you could ever hope to, Bael,” Gabriel said. “He betrays me not.”

Surprise came into Venelana’s eyes, and with widened pupils, they darted between Cain and Gabriel. “T-Truly…? No… No! He is meant for me! ’Tis written!”

“The fate of the Son of Man is only his to decide. Even God has wiped His hands clean with His curse, and thus, if there is a Man of his own making, it can only be Cain,” Gabriel declared.

“He makes the most of every moment,” She continued. “I have seen it with my own eyes over a thousand years. He defines his own path. And lowering that freedom, that will and potential granted by Him, to ruin by cavorting with your kind is a dream straight from oblivion, Bael.”

“Gabriel…”

Cain said her name. When Gabriel turned to look at him, he was looking anywhere but her for some reason. His cheeks looked good with a bit of color to them, Gabriel absently mused.

The Bael princess watched them both intently. The air around her began to crackle with her bloodline’s infamous power of destruction. Gabriel could sense her intensity, the false certainty that Cain was destined for her. Gabriel bore no shame for the pleasure she took in ruining that dream.

“Cain, you accept this dove’s deceptions?” Venelana asked, her own voice deceptively soft.

Cain shrugged. “Angels tell no lies.”

“Yet clearly, she misleads you!” Venelana insisted. “She takes your feelings for her and runs only towards Heaven’s aims with them! She will draw you towards your death — inevitably, verily so! — and get away without a black feather in her wings!”

“I hope so,” Cain sighed. “I would hate to be the reason Gabriel Fell.”

“Never,” Gabriel assured him. “You have protected me from it, even. What would have happened if you had not given me a place to rest my head in those first years, Cain? What would have come without our ‘perfect’ moment? Only Father knows, and personally, I am glad I will never find out.”

Venelana raised her voice, losing noble composure. “She seeks to wash your mind blank, Cain! Her Light, it may not lie, but it never tells the truth, either! He in Heaven abandoned you, cast you out, cursed you! Now, He sends His Might with a pretty face and massive tits and breeding hips, and you roll over for her?! It’s-! It’s-!”

Gabriel wouldn’t give her the pleasure of blushing at that crude description. She only glared until Venelana was brought up short by the sheer vitriol directed her way.

“A-Ahem…” Venelana cleared her throat and regathered herself.

“It does not have to be so, of course.” She implored Cain to listen. “I would treasure you, Cain; more than Heaven ever would or even could. You could rule House Bael in my stead, with me on the arm of your throne. We would be the future, Cain, and even great Zekram would see that. I am already his heir; he would favor me, favor you, favor us. By right and power, our sons and daughters would rule Hell and Earth-…”

“Earth is for man.” Cain cut her off. “Not Hell or even Heaven. Even Man, even I… my chance to rule passed long ago, Venelana. I have no ‘right’; I wander. Would you be satisfied sharing my curse?”

To Gabriel’s ears, it sounded like Cain was… bargaining, maybe even considering. She didn’t jump to any conclusions immediately. Despite the part of her that wanted Cain to shut the Bael princess down hard, she trusted him and whatever course of action he thought was best here.

“I-… I might adapt, I suppose,” Venelana said halfheartedly.

“You want me, and you don’t even know why or what it would mean if you had me,” Cain told her.

“It would mean greatness! It would mean a future wholly ours! It would mean love!” Venelana insisted.

Cain shook his head. “You don’t know me nearly as well as you presume.”

“Yet I am willing to try!”

“It would never work between us.”

“It will work between you and her, then?! That,” Venelana spat, gesturing at Gabriel. “Is more doomed than anything we could build together!”

Cain glanced at Gabriel. “… Maybe so. I’ve certainly had the same thought. But it isn’t my place to say definitively, to… speak for both of us, or to presume as you’re doing.”

Gabriel held her tongue. There was some emotion building within her breast, utterly unidentifiable. She wanted to deny, deny, deny-! … But she didn’t quite know what she would be denying.

She-… She knew she cherished Cain, and she hoped he cherished her in return. Gabriel certainly didn’t feel like there was something ‘doomed’ between them. But if Cain supposedly saw it, and Venelana saw it, too…?

“… W-What-?” Gabriel began to ask.

“Hmph!” Venelana interrupted with a huff. “Very well! I cannot sway you now, I suppose, but I will not give up! We will be great together, Cain. ’Tis written.”

Cain sighed, “You know, you really shouldn’t put so much stock in fortune-telling, Venelana.”

“Ohoho~? Mother Lilith is no mere soothsayer! You should know that well!” Venelana laughed with all the confidence of a princess. “All she sees will come true one day, and see saw you atop a bust unrivaled, the greatest in Creation! Whose breasts can those be but mine — verily! ’Tis written.”

Gabriel didn’t like the sound of that. A fortune from Lilith that placed Cain and this Devil princess together… The idea of it stuck in the back of her mind, even as the fight between Archangel, Man, and Devils commenced. And so did the question she hadn’t gotten to ask…

Half-distracted, Gabriel carved through the Devils. She gave justice to the souls they’d corrupted under her watch with every dark drop of spilled Devil blood. The Amon fell to her spear; the Buer was run through by a hail of golden feathers; the Marax was purged by pure holy Light.

Cain fought as well, right beside her. He dashed the heads of two Beleth Devils against each other, obliterating everything between the brutal fists of Man. He pushed through Venelana’s Bael power of destruction — to Gabriel’s half-distracted eyes, it looked terribly like they were dancing with each other…

Below, the People’s Crusade met the end it deserved. From the mobbing host, perhaps 3,000 survived. And above, only Venelana was graced with that same fate, barely managing to escape Cain. Even beaten back, she had a confident, obsessive smile on her face that Gabriel really didn’t like directed at Cain.

When only Cain and Gabriel remained in the sky, she turned to him with the question that had never left her mind.

“Cain…? Are we… doomed?”

Gabriel knew him well — she did. She saw millennia of regret in his eyes. She saw his hesitation to… commit. She saw how he didn’t feel worthy, how he felt too cursed to stand by her side, how he didn’t want to hurt her-

She didn’t get an answer then. The question of doom between them would haunt the next century of their relationship.

IIIII

“Cain, please, talk to me…?” Gabriel implored.

“Hey, look,” He avoided the question. “I call them the Knights Hospitaller. They’re intended to be an order of healers and fighters. Think you could bless them for me?”

“-Ah.” Gabriel paused. “Yes, that does seem like a worthy cause…”

When she finished blessing the knights of the order and looked back up for Cain, he was already gone.

IIIII

“Cain,” Gabriel insisted.

“These will be the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre, charged mainly with the defense of holy sites. They could really use the approval of His Might, no?”

“Certainly. But Cain-?”

Again, he was gone.

IIIII

“Cain!” Gabriel wasted no time when she found him next, seizing him bodily so he could not disappear again.

“Gabriel!” Cain simply replied in kind, the same tone and energy, with a deflecting smile to boot.

“We must talk about this-!”

“Good timing! I’m calling these ones the Knights Templar. I have a feeling they’ll be important.”

“… I will not bless them until you sit down with me and-”

“Boop.”

The tap to her nose made Gabriel blink. Her grip upon Cain loosened just a touch in her confusion and the slight fluttering in her tummy.

He used the chance to slip away, gone once more.

… Gabriel still blessed his knights.

IIIII

The Second Crusade came and went, and a Third began — one for Kings and proper armies, not Paupers as that corrupted fool Peter had led; thank Father. The Holy Land had hardly known a single year of peace, and for all Gabriel wanted to pin Cain down and talk, she still had her duties to Father and to Heaven.

In the rare moments she was free, she looked for Cain. He spent all his time founding knightly orders that went on to play pivotal roles. Gabriel was proud of him for that much.

She was much less proud of how slippery he’d made himself to avoid the question of doom between them.

Gabriel had searched her soul over the century. She’d spoken to Father on the subject as well; He only gave her an almost infuriatingly knowing approval rather than answers. Gabriel thought she understood now, though.

The Might of God… The First Murderer, Son of Man… They should not work. There really should be ‘doom’ between them.

Yet Gabriel could not and would not deny her heart. She didn’t know it entirely — the Might of God was made to fight, not to ponder and muse — but she did know that she wanted… something between her and Cain.

Something more than this chase and dodged question, something that allowed her to lean on him again and him to lean on her, something, something, something…

Doom be damned, she wanted Cain!

She had her answer to the question between them, the one that drove Cain to avoid her for long, long years; now, she only needed Cain’s.

Gabriel knew she would need drastic action to pin him down — she may even have to do so literally with her spear — but she would not Fall for him. He wouldn’t want her to. All she could do was hold patience in her mind, determination in her heart, and trust in Father’s ‘shipping’ plan in her soul (she still didn’t quite understand what sailing had to do with her and Cain…).

And she was patient. She maintained her determination. She put trust in Father’s plan… Until she heard one story that Cain had gotten himself caught up in.

Azazel was the one to tell her, of all people — the parting words of a fight between them. He said that Cain had walked right into Hell to decline the continued advances of a certain Bael princess. Gabriel’s heart soared that he would go so far for Venelana’s rejection.

But no one except Father could simply walk into Hell and expect to escape — especially not Cain, for Lucifer hated and coveted the Son of Man more than any mortal.

“He’s still fighting. He seems… done,” Azazel told her, uncharacteristically worried. “I just-… If anyone should know, it’s you, Gabriel.”

The news stopped Gabriel mid-strike — she just froze. She couldn’t bring herself to care that Azazel had used the chance to slip away.

She rushed back to Heaven, intent on rallying aid and a mission to save Cain. Unsure if her siblings would be willing to join her, Gabriel went to Father first. She found Him… tired.

“The Beast: it is sealed,” Father said; Gabriel had never heard Him so-… “What do you need, my Might?”

Gabriel told him of Cain’s plight in Hell, potentially his final fight, and all but begged to rally a force from Heaven to rescue him. Her coming to Him with the news and request seemed to fill God with energy anew.

The result was more than Gabriel could’ve ever expected. Father rallied all of Heaven and led them personally into Hell. It was a battle to end the Great War for good, one started by Cain and continued by Him.

They found Cain barely holding his own against Lucifer and his Satans, Stone in hand and Murder in heart. He was… done, just as Azazel had told her; Gabriel could see it at just a glance. It reminded her of Father, actually-…

She didn’t get time to linger on that thought; Father led them into that final battle with a battle cry that shook Creation. “FOR THE SHIP!”

The forces of Heaven took up the cry. They must’ve thought it metaphorical, ‘righting the ship of Creation’ or some such message. Gabriel knew, though…

“Go to him,” Father whispered in her ear, even as he engaged his wayward son and all he’d built in Hell. “He needs you as you need him. I love you both.”

Gabriel, blushing red to the feathers of her wings, did as He advised. Cain lay at the center of the battlefield, forgotten there as Lucifer charged Father — he was not beaten, but he was… done. Gabriel’s heart ached for him.

She scooped him up and took him to a cave away from the fight. She laid his head on her lap and ran her fingers through his hair.

“Perfect…” Cain muttered.

“Perfect,” Gabriel nodded in agreement, tears gathering in her eyes, streaking out from beneath her blindfold onto her cheeks, and falling to wet Cain’s.

“I’m tired, Gabriel,” Cain told her. “This life… it’s been so long.”

Gabriel nearly choked on her reply, a tragic thickness in her throat that she couldn’t hope to swallow now. “Then-… Then sleep. I will seal you here and wait for you to wake. A hundred years, a thousand, until the end of Father’s work, if I must. When you are ready, we will talk.”

Cain chuckled, “It’ll be long overdue. I can answer your question now, at least. I… do think we’re doomed. But I want that doom. I want it with you, Gabriel. I want every moment between us leading up to it.”

“I do, too, Cain.” Gabriel bowed her head until her forehead met Cain’s.

His eyes began to drift closed, with a smile just for her on his lips. “Oh, and that prophecy Venelana mentioned? She’s wrong about it. Lilith saw me upon the greatest bust in Creation. There’s always been only one pair in the running for that in my mind.”

“Gabriel, I think your tits are…” Cain’s eyes shut.

“Perfect.”

“C-Cain!” Gabriel’s exclamation came out as a tearful laugh. Cain was already asleep.

“Foolish Son of Man. That shouldn’t have been nearly as romantic as you made it.” Gabriel shook her head fondly. “Rest well, Cain. I will wait for you to wake.”

The Might of God and Son of Man entered that cave in Hell. Only the Might of God left it, sealing Cain there as promised. She would wait. In the meantime, there was His work to be done.

… Or so she thought. By the time she rejoined the final battle of the Great War, three Satans were dead, and Lucifer joined them to strike a mortal wound on Father.

Father… He was just as done as Cain. Gabriel realized it then in full. He too wished to sleep for a time, dead to His Creation. For Him, too, Gabriel would wait.

And so, the Great War ended with three final words from God, an indecipherable trinity to all but Gabriel.

“Shipped it. Worth.”