|Don't Let Me Fall Again 5/?
||[Dec. 14th, 2011|07:14 pm]
Azazel & Riptide's Kingdom
|||||"Take Over Control" - Afrojack ft. Eva Simons||]|
Title: Don't Let Me Fall 5/?
Warnings: Discussions of violence, sexual situations
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with the Marvel corporation and express no ownership over it or the characters used. I profit in no way from this use.
Summary: To be with someone is to accept them for all that makes them who they are. But there is a difference between knowing what a man is capable of, and seeing it. When Janos' past becomes a part of his present, he is confronted with a side of Azazel he wishes he'd never seen.
A/N So, woke up this morning feeling 100% better after my brief bout with some mysterious illness. Here is the promised chapter, and so sorry about that.
Jesimiel only stood as tall as Janos now, a bit of a surprise. He'd still had three inches on Janos when they last stood beside one another. His skin was darker, rougher. He'd been spending more time outside. His hair, a lighter shade than Janos', was being worn closely-cut to his scalp, just barely enough to cover it.
The scarring was ugly, cutting across his cheekbone and almost down to his mouth. It stretched the skin around it in a way Azazel's didn't, maybe due to the almost horizontal nature of it, whereas Azazel's ran with the line of his face. Jesimiel had been handsome once, in a different way from Janos. He'd carried the more angular face of their father, with a strong nose and jaw. But now, if Janos were to choose a word to describe his brother, 'handsome' would not be the first one to jump to mind. Damaged, maybe. Hard.
“How have I been?” Jesimiel parroted slowly, his accent thick, and Janos was shocked at how similar their voices were now. His own had deepened in the years. He hadn't realized by how much. “I have been well, mi hermanito.”
“It does not look like it.” He couldn't keep his eyes off the scarring. Azazel's were as much a part of his face as his nose, his eyes, but Jesimiel's was so distinctly wrong.
“Ah. You see this,” He ran his fingers down the scar, as though it were still not memorized, though it looked so old. “Did you think running away would have no consequences?” When he saw the horrified realization that had to be in Janos' face, he smiled, in his way, the just barely there upturn of the corners of his mouth. It twisted the scarring. “Somebody had to pay for you. You knew that.”
He did not sound as though he were blaming Janos, merely stating the fact as it was.
“The past is the past, mi hermanito. Do not trouble yourself.” He said it all as sedately as if he were reading off a list of groceries, as if Janos had not directly caused the ruination of his face. Janos wanted to hit him for it, make him react, because out of all the things Joash and Joseph had done, this was the one that should have broken Jesimiel out of his spell. This should have angered him enough to leave. It should have done something.
“Not to interrupt, but I am sure you are not here for a family reunion.” Lehnsherr asked, in his crisp Castillian Spanish. “Why were you sent?”
Jesimiel watched Lehnsherr for a moment, studying him, and Janos was surprised that he could still see Jesimiel's thought process in his tranquil face, as he assessed Lehnsherr, and dismissed him as non-threatening.
“Joseph sent me to make sure you were able to find your way. Our location is not easy to find for a non-local, and the neighborhoods are dangerous. Joseph wishes for his payment to arrive on time. If he is forced to retrieve it from one of our neighbors, it will put him in a bad temper.”
“From what I understand, your brother is prone to having a bad temper.” Lehnsherr said, in a casual way. If he was looking to get a reaction from Jesimiel, he was sorely disappointed. Jesimiel merely shrugged, as though he could not care less about what Lehnsherr understood.
“People do say that.”
Angel had managed to somehow remain quiet the entire time, maybe ceding the discussion to the three of them out of lack of understanding. She was still so unversed in the ways of the world, for all that she acted so worldly. Business transactions, deals, and negotiations were foreign to her.
Azazel too, remained quiet, but Janos thought that might have more to do with Jesimiel's thick accent whenever he spoke English. It was entirely likely Azazel couldn't even understand the conversation, for the most part, especially since Lehnsherr had shown he was perfectly fluent in Jesimiel's more comfortable language. Azazel understood more Spanish than he was willing to let on, Janos suspected, but maybe not enough for this, especially with the wildly differing accents of Janos and Jesimiel's Spanish in contrast to Lehnsherr's.
“In any case, it was very kind of you to agree to escort us. Janos has confided that he is not as comfortable with the city as he was when he was a boy.”
“Did he?” Jesimiel turned his eyes to Janos again, and it took more willpower than he cared to admit it to hold his gaze. He felt small again, just being in the same room, small and weak. “Janos was never very comfortable in this city.”
“Neither were you.” Janos replied waspishly, in English, annoyed that Jesimiel remembered, that he felt the need to share.
“A person can grow used to anything, can't he?” Jesimiel responded, still in Spanish, not at all bothered. “Come. We should go. Joseph and Joash aren't very patient men.” He said, switching to English. He paused in his turn towards the doorway, obviously fully expecting them to follow him. “Though I'm sure you have had no gap in memory there, have you, mi hermanito?”
Janos could practically feel Azazel's anger, and he wondered if he would have to say something to soothe it, keep Azazel from lashing out at his brother, but Azazel stopped on his own. When Janos tilted his head to him, he saw Azazel's eyes focused on Jesimiel's hand, and when Janos looked for himself, he knew why Azazel had stayed his hand.
In a gesture Azazel had to know as well as Janos himself did, Jesimiel was unconsciously winding a stream of water between his fingers in a cat's cradle.
Just like Janos did when he was anxious.
Azazel's eyes were on Janos now, asking a question he didn't want to answer, and he avoided it, turning to follow his brother and Lehnsherr without a word. Angel trailed, shrugging a jacket over her shoulders to hide her wings.
“Azazel,” Lehnsherr said, as the door opened. “Stay here.” It was a show for Jesimiel's benefit. Azazel would be following through Emma's careful link to them.
Azazel's eyes burned into him even through the wall as they followed Jesimiel, leaving him behind to wait.
-Trouble in paradise?- Emma's voice asked, the cold rush that was her mind settling into his easily. She was choosing to link with him then, a sensible decision, since she knew his mind best out of all the ones here.
-You're not funny.
Jesimiel led them down the stairs and out into the street, where the hot sun beat down on them from a cornflower-blue sky. Angel almost blossomed under its warmth, smiling, despite the situation, as she turned her head up to it. She was beautiful, he thought, so breathtakingly beautiful, the curve of her perfect waist just made for his arm, the brown of her breasts turning golden in the light, begging for worship, to tease her until she begged-
-Oh dear god, I am so sorry,- Emma's voice almost shouted, and the sexual thoughts about Angel, of all people, were thankfully ripped from his mind. Honestly disturbed at the foreign thoughts, Janos put some distance between himself and Angel. He could almost feel Emma cringing in his mind, the heat of her embarrassment burning through her normally crisp and cool presence. -I am so sorry, I had no intention of projecting,-
-I would hope so.- He replied, trying to completely rid himself of the almost slimy feel of another person's lust. -Is this what all of that sniping at Mystique was about?-
-I could admit to some immaturity on my own part.- It was the best he was going to get from her, and he let the subject drop, watching the back of his brother's head as he led them through the crowds.
-What is he thinking about? Can you tell?-
-He's a bit of a mystery, honestly. He's thinking about the ocean, the tides going in and out. It's a method for blocking telepaths, but I don't feel traces of anyone else in his mind. As far as I can tell, he's never met one. He's just thinking about the waves.-
-He's blocking out the world.- Janos told her, believing he was correct in his assessment. His brother had always been the master of his own emotions, and he had to have developed a method to keep himself calm. Janos wished he was like Emma, for just this moment, so that he could look in Jesimiel's mind, find his brother again, or force himself to accept that there was nothing left, that the others had stamped him out long ago.
-It's funny how alike you and him are though. Your powers, I mean. You're a mirror of each other. Strange, when neither of your parents had any kind of elemental ability.- Janos had often thought about that himself, wondered if in the same way Janos could feel the gentle lull of the water, Jesimiel could hear the whisper of the wind.
-Perhaps one of our grandparents. Both our parents were mutants, it must run in their families.- He felt her quiet agreement, as they wove through the city, the cry of the gulls growing louder as they drew closer to the docks. Joseph had been right in his idea that they would be lost here, because the buildings were new, and the walkways different than Janos remembered. He did not think he could have found it on his own. -Where is Azazel?-
-Look up, to your right, a little further up, see that curtain fluttering?- He did, and maybe it was only his imagination filling in what he could not see, but he almost thought he saw the briefest hint of a red face and a black suit before there was smoke. -He can't quite manage to hide all of his worry from me. He thinks we should have left you at home. He hates how this has been bothering you.-
-He knows I can handle it.-
-That doesn't make him any less worried. He loves you more than anything in this world, Janos. He wants to just murder them all, and that's not even just for you. His mind is no pleasant place to be right now, trust me.-
-What else is he thinking of?- Janos asked curiously, Azazel's thoughts an enigma to him. He knew why Azazel was angry on his behalf, but what else was troubling the man?
-He's thinking about Poland, mostly. The camps. The children. Has he ever told you about that?-
-No.- That part of Azazel's life was not exactly closed, but he preferred to never speak of it, and Janos would never presume to push. Azazel did not push him.
-He keeps picturing this bunker. When he opened it, there were all these bodies. Children. God, it makes me ill just sharing it secondhand. They murdered them all when they heard Azazel's group was coming, gassed them, he thinks. He's tying them up with your brothers in his thoughts. And with their current business, I can't blame him. You know how he is about children.-
Janos did. He preferred not to think about it, how brutal Azazel could be when there were children involved, mutant children especially. He felt horribly selfish as he realized how this entire thing must be weighing on Azazel, and he had been so wrapped up in his own problems, he had never thought to make sure Azazel had himself in check.
-Janos, he was so concerned about losing you, he hasn't had time to work himself up into a murderous rampage yet. Give him time though. I've been picking up thoughts about Joseph and Joash from Jesimiel, and I don't think Azazel will take to them very well. You need to watch him. Lehnsherr does not want any unnecessary violence here today, and that's Azazel's middle name.- She was right, and he knew it. Azazel's temper, and his seemingly endless capacity for creative violence, were his biggest failing points, the two things he seemed to have no want to control.
-I'll try. I'm not his keeper though. I have no more control over him than anyone else.- Her bright peals of laughter rang through his head in mockery, and he mentally frowned at her.
-Oh, Janos, the false modesty isn't believable in the slightest. You forget, I overhear things, even when I don't mean to, and he projects when he's feeling particularly passionate. You have more power than you think when it comes to him.- She paused, and he could feel her concentrating. -I can feel the other three.-
-We're close then?- He felt her assent, and he could see from the expressions of the others she had shared the information. -What are they thinking?-
-Your brother Josiah is as dumb as a box of rocks, isn't he?- She asked, clearly annoyed. -His mind is blank, and that's not just a block against telepaths.-
-Don't underestimate him.- Janos warned her. -Stupid does not mean harmless, as you well know. Remember Cassidy?-
-Unfortunately.- She growled in his head.
“Mi hermanito,” Jesimiel interrupted. “Joseph and Joash are looking forward to seeing you. Though I think your hair will be a displeasure to them.”
“It has been a long time since their displeasure frightened me.” Jesimiel glanced at him over his shoulder, the unscarred side of his face the only one visible, and for a moment, he was exactly as he had been all that time ago.
“Really?” The way he asked told Janos just how much he believed of that. Or maybe Janos was only projecting his own troubled mind onto Jesimiel's quiet tone. It was so hard to tell, sometimes, with Jesimiel, what he was really feeling, if he was feeling anything. How had Janos forgotten his frustration? Had he really forgotten that?
“What condition are the girls in, Jesimiel?” He asked, in Spanish, as quietly as he could, so Lehnsherr wouldn't hear.
“Are they even still alive?”
“What a thing to ask, and of your own brothers.” He said, his tone even, almost amused. “The girls are as well as can be expected, after having been left in Josiah's care.” The very thought made his whole body tense, as he realized exactly what Jesimiel was implying.
“Why did they let him have them?” Jesimiel shrugged, as they rounded a corner Janos hadn't even noticed, and emerged into the bright sunlight of the docks.
The warehouse doors were open, a few people hanging around, mutants, he suspected, and Emma confirmed.
Lehnsherr was watching them all, and Janos knew they were not likely to be recruited. These people were thugs, with barely a brain between them, and their powers likely weren't anything special. Joseph and Joash wouldn't want competition by recruiting powerful mutants, or intelligent ones. They wanted muscle to do their heavy lifting.
Still Janos did not like their eyes on him as they followed Jesimiel in, did not like the thought of how many people he would have to catch with the initial sweep of water if they chose to attack. He was aware he was Lehnsherr's muscle right now, that he was being relied upon. Angel and Azazel were strong and capable, but Janos was the heavy hitter, besides Lehnsherr, and there was more water and wind here than metal.
Jesimiel led the way into the warehouse, through a side door. It took Janos a minute for his eyes to adjust, as Jesimiel crossed the room, leaving them behind.
“So, our prodigal brother returns.” Joseph's voice called, and Janos' eyes went up to its source. He was seemingly just emerging from one of the offices in the second landing, Joash following. Joash's eyes glittered in the shadows as he watched Janos, and Janos felt a chill creep down his spine. The urge to kill was almost overwhelming, the need to rip them both limb from limb overriding his good sense.
“The parable doesn't quite fit, Joseph.” Janos corrected, trying to keep the hatred out of his voice. “The prodigal son returned broken and beaten.” And from Janos' bespoke suit to the strength in his abilities, he was neither of those things.
“That's right. You left that way.” Joash said, as they made their way down the steps, with a sneer that made Janos want to hit him.
“Don't overestimate yourself.” Janos replied, pleased with how he managed to stay so calm, so collected.
“Look at that, Joseph.” Joash was half-laughing as he turned to their oldest brother. “Our little dog still has his bite.”
“Gentlemen,” Lehnsherr's voice was cool, with that vague amusement that always colored his tone when he felt he was speaking to someone below him, someone unworthy of his time. “Unless you would like a demonstration of Riptide's bite, so to speak, I believe we're here to do business. Where are the girls?”
Joseph smiled and tipped his head back, indicating a door behind him. Joash walked over and knocked on it hard, three sharp raps that echoed through the warehouse.
Josiah appeared, dragging two children, both visibly struggling against him. He smiled at Janos, but the way Josiah smiled had always reminded Janos more of a dog baring its teeth than an expression of joy.
“Hello Janos,” He called.
He heard Angel inhale deeply, but she said nothing, kept her face neutral, and he hoped Emma was whispering words of comfort to her, keeping her strong in the face of this, like he wished Azazel could do for him, that he could do for Azazel. He was nearby, Janos knew, possibly in the warehouse, watching, and the sight of these children had to be making his tail curl like a scorpion's, like it did when he wanted to use it to tear someone's throat out.
The girls were worse than they had appeared in the pictures, thinner and dirtier, even more bruised than they'd been before. Josiah had obviously been making sure they remembered him for the rest of their lives. Both girls were terrified and shaking, their eyes on the ground.
“Why the long face, Janos?” Joash mocked, strolling over, hands in his pockets.
“How much lower can you sink?” Janos asked, disgusted with all of them, even Jesimiel. Jesimiel at least still had to know right from wrong, even if their brothers had descended this far into their own evils.
Joseph held out his hands and shrugged, smiling. “Business is business, little brother. We have a product, and believe me, there are buyers. Funny what some men are into, isn't it?” He ran his hand over the ten-year-old's head, and the way she flinched from touch, from a man's touch, told Janos everything he needed to know. Everything he never wanted to know.
“The agreed upon price.” Lehnsherr said, putting the briefcase down.
“Are you sure we couldn't make a new deal, Lehnsherr? The girls for our dearest little brother?” Joash asked, his hand extending towards Janos' face. “So handsome you turned out, little brother,” He murmured. “How well do you think you'd sell?” The threat made Janos recoil, but he hardly had time, as smoke clouded his vision, and Joash was suddenly on the floor, howling in agony, as Azazel twisted his arm, his sword pointed at the back of Joash's neck.
“Keep your hands to yourself.” Azazel growled, accent so thick he was almost incomprehensible.
“My, my, Janos, what friends you've made.” Joseph breathed, his eyes on Azazel. Josiah stared as well, releasing the girls to clutch at the front of his shirt, where Janos could just see the hint of a chain. So was that what they though Azazel was? They still feared God and the Devil then, still thought they had something resembling souls.
“Azazel,” Lehnsherr's voice was commanding, but calm. “Let him go, please.” Azazel's eyes flickered to Janos though, asking silently for direction. Janos wanted to let him do it, let him murder the man, but he couldn't risk the girls, so he gave no indication of assent.
Azazel almost looked as though he were going to do it anyway, but he released Joash after only a short pause, letting him fall and catch his balance on the concrete floor.
“You have a nasty temper, my friend, has anyone ever told you that?” Joash was trying to pretend as though he hadn't been scared, but he wasn't carrying it off well. Janos was starting to feel a heavy press on his mind, and he knew Joash was blanketing their abilities. It didn't matter, he knew that, not when it came to Azazel, or the gun under his own jacket, or Lehnsherr's own. And Angel would still have her abilities. They were not defenseless. He was not defenseless.
“There will be no change in price. Do not mistake me for a slave trader.” Lehnsherr said, voice deceptively level.
“No, no mistake. You are a man with morals. You won't leave them here, not when you know what my other buyers will do with them. They especially like little Neena here. Don't they?” Joseph said, looking over at the girls. Josiah stroked the blue-haired girl's face again, and she sobbed. It earned her a hard slap, and she stumbled.
“I have your money. Give me the girls.” Lehnsherr's words so clearly carried the undercurrent of the demand not being repeated, and Joseph heard it.
“Is Janos that valuable to you?” Joash asked, wrinkling his nose in disbelief. “Even now, when I take away his abilities? When he is a weak little boy again, begging me not to snap his fingers again? Tell me Janos, how well do you play now? How well will you play when I take your fingers and snap them out of the joint again, and again, until you scream for mother, you little bi-”
Janos' temper was too far pushed, and he took terrible pleasure in the fear in Joash's eyes as he pulled his gun, aiming directly at Joash's chest.
“I play as perfectly as ever, dear brother. Thank you for asking.” His voice was sweet, a sugar-laced threat, and he dared Joash to call him on it, dared Joash to give him a reason. “Look at you Joash. Still a pathetic thug, living with the rest of the gutter rats.”
“You would watch your tongue when speaking to your betters, Janos.” Joseph ordered dangerously, but Janos didn't care for a second. Joseph's powers were just as restrained as Janos', and Janos was the one with the gun.
A tail wound around his forearm, but didn't presume to try to move him.
“Janos, the girls.” Azazel reminded him.
The little ones were staring at him with wide, hopeful eyes, their bloodlust overriding their age. They wanted him to shoot this man, wanted to his skull crack apart from a bullet, his blood on the floor. They wanted it more than he did, their passionate child-hatred stronger than anything. And he wanted to give it to them, wanted to give them a reason to trust in the fairness of the world, wanted them to know that men like this would never be allowed life in their new world, that they would be princesses, untouchable and cared for. That their family, the true family they had in this Brotherhood, would destroy all their nightmares.
His finger twitched on the trigger.
“Janos,” It was Angel, her gentle voice full of fear. “Janos, not in front of them. Please.”
She was right.
He lowered the gun, and saw how Joash relaxed.
“Take them then.” Joseph said, and Josiah shoved at them. Both girls ran, right into Angel's waiting arms, trusting a woman above all f them, and Janos couldn't blame them for a second.
“Azazel, take them outside.” Lehnsherr was still in control of the situation entirely, and Janos was grateful for his ability to keep a cool head where Janos couldn't.
The girls were gone now, and it was just the six of them, Joash keeping Emma out. Just the six of them, and Janos had the gun. He could do it now, could kill them, could maybe get two before he himself was murdered. And then what? Then what would happen to Azazel? To the Brotherhood? What would those girls have without Lehnsherr to direct them? Janos trusted Emma, but she didn't have Lehnsherr's drive, his zeal.
And Azazel. There was Azazel.
He kept his gun down.
Slowly, he felt the suffocating feel of Joash's powers recede, and from the strained look on his brother's face, Janos knew he had to have pushed himself too hard. Too many mutants in the room, powerful mutants, for him to repress all of them. Janos had never known his full limits before, and he wondered how his brothers were keeping the lackeys and grunts outside under their control.
“What is your deal with the devil, Janos?” Josiah's question surprised him, and he looked at his brother, puzzled. “You let him put his hands on you, you take his orders. What a state your soul must be in.”
The gun came back up before Janos knew what he was doing.
“You have no room to ever talk about my soul, Josiah. Little girls flinch from you. If anyone is going to have to answer to the Father, it's you.”
Joash chuckled, and god, Janos hated the sound.
In the same instant he fired, he felt Azazel's hand on his shoulder.
As Joash fell back, his face twisted in shock, they disappeared.
They reappeared in the hotel, and they'd hardly had a moment before Lehnsherr rounded on him.
“You complete idiot!” He raged. “Your damn temper is going to get us killed!” Janos slammed the pistol down on the table, burying his hands in his hair in frustration.
“I know.” He replied, admitting what he already knew had been a stupid, heated decision. “I know, I know. I am sorry, so sorry, I do not know why I let myself do that.”
He could hear the water running in the other room. Angel was cleaning the girls up.
“I know they were absolute trash, Janos, but now they have a reason to come after us.” Lehnsherr's anger was leveling out, as he seemed to calm and formulate plans. His knuckles were still white where he was leaning over the table, but the grip was loosening, his breathing evening out.
“I am sorry, Lehnsherr.” Janos apologized again, looking at the door to the bathroom in fear, for the two little lives that he could have put in danger again. “I am so sorry.”
“Do not be sorry.” Azazel's accent was still thick, but Janos could understand him. “They were worth nothing.”
“That does not mean that killing them was a good idea.” Janos reminded him, while Lehnsherr frowned in thought. “It was foolish, and it puts them in danger.”
“Janos, pack everything, quickly.” Lehnsherr was obviously falling back into stride. “Azazel, get downstairs, destroy any record of us having been here. Do not make it easy for us to be traced, for our names to be found.”
With one more look at Janos, Azazel disappeared to complete his quick chore, and Janos went to complete his own task. He stopped to knock on the door and tell Angel they needed to get out quickly, and that she needed to hurry.
“What's happened?” She asked, sounding worried.
“Just hurry. No time to explain now.”
He threw everything they had brought back into their respective case, locking the two tightly just as Azazel reappeared.
One of his swords was bloody.
Janos stared at it, then up at Azazel.
“You were spotted?”
“The dead cannot speak, Janos.” He said, wiping it down with the corner of his jacket, caring more about the precious weapon than the easily replaceable clothing. “Are we ready?”
“We're waiting for Angel to finish, I think.” He moved to step away, but Azazel's palm on the back of his neck stopped him. “Azazel,”
“What you did was not wrong, Janos. Perhaps not well thought out, but it was right to kill them. They are not men. They are not worth the air they breathe.” Azazel's words, his truth, slowed the frantic beat of Janos' heart, reminded him that Joash deserved not a second of thought, of doubt. “No matter what you do, Мой шторм, I will support you. You know that.”
“I know.” Janos confirmed. “I think I did a very stupid thing though. We have to run, now.”
“Agreed.” Lehnsherr was in the doorway between the bedroom and the main room, his eyes on them. They drew apart automatically, and he raised any eyebrow.
“Now you want to show modesty?”
“Lehnsherr,” Azazel warned.
“Do you really think I care what you two do? I am sure Emma has already shared all the secrets she dredged out of my mind.” Janos had no idea what he was talking about, but he was soothed by Azazel's tail winding around his thigh. “Regardless, is everything taken care of?”
“We were never here.” Azazel said. “Even when the others come back here, they will find nothing. Let them trace us all the way home. I would like to see it.”
“There's still the matter of the contact who gave me their information.” Lehnsherr mused.
“There is no matter there.” Janos looked at the still dirty sword, as Lehnsherr gave Azazel a surprised, and perhaps impressed look. “I am always thorough, Lehnsherr. Always.”
Before Lehnsherr could say anything, Angel emerged with the girls, their clothes still dirty, but their faces clean.
“I'll need time at the house to get your hair untangled,” She was telling the blue-haired one. “We have to go now.”
They were both shivering, Janos realized, their clothes barely anything, but before he could do anything, Azazel shrugged off his outer jacket and wrapped it around the smaller one's shoulders, buttoning it at the top, so that it wouldn't slip off.
“You are safe, маленькая змейка,” He assured gently, the little girl's wide, slitted eyes on Azazel's tail. He smiled at her, and stroked her cheek with the blade, letting her feel how soft it was.
“You have a tail.” She said, in Spanish, her little voice awed.
“She likes your tail.” Janos translated, and Azazel chuckled at her.
The blue-haired one did not want to be touched by them, and he could see Azazel knew that as well as Janos did. Azazel was a man, and if she ever trusted one again, Janos would be shocked.
But she had seen him nearly murder her tormenter.
Slowly, he offered her his own jacket, so that she could have some kind of protection between herself and the world, and when she took it, he made sure their fingers did not brush. She slipped her arms in and tugged it closed, her wide eyes on him, still weary.
“Angel, take her hand.” Azazel instructed, and Angel did so, while the younger one tugged on Azazel's tail, taking Angel's other hand in her free one. Janos took Azazel's, and Lehnsherr put his hand on Janos.
“Take us home, Azazel.”
A/N Ah, yes, rather short, sorry about that. Next chapter will be longer, and more fun. Promise.