Archive of Our Own ^beta

Artist: frumiousme. If you like her work, send her some love <3

~*~

Blaine held out his cupped hands eagerly. This was his favorite moment. His eyes, golden as the sun in a summer sky, gleamed in anticipation.

Mercedes, the Mother of Souls, grinned indulgently at him as she placed the precious treasure into the cradle of his hands.

Warmth radiated from the bright little glowing soul that now rested in his hands and spread throughout his body, lighting him up with joy. He smiled lovingly at the new little life in his hands. "Don't be afraid, small one, you're safe. I'm going to take you to your mother and soon your life will begin. It's going to be wonderful!"

Blaine hummed a lullaby over the little soul and he could feel it vibrate happily. "Here now, join your brothers and sisters."

And Blaine gently added the glowing light into the opened bag with the other little souls he would be taking to Earth. "Any twins?" Blaine asked hopefully. "I love twins!"

"Not this time, Little Warbler." And Mercedes flicked Blaine's cheek with the feathered tip of her wing causing him to duck his head bashfully. "Go on now."

Obediently, Blaine closed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He stretched out his wings to their full wingspan, reveling in their strength. As easy as falling Blaine, the Angel of Life, descended from Heaven in a slow, graceful glide to Earth.

~*~

[Trigger Warning: death of young child. No graphic description though.]

Twilight was gathering, the first stars emerging in the darkening sky, when Blaine had delivered his last soul. He should return to Heaven but Blaine enjoyed his trips to Earth and like to visit with children to see how they were growing.

And so it was as a warbler bird that Blaine alighted upon a window sill, hopping excitedly as he peered inside. The little boy whose bedroom this was already lay asleep on his bed underneath his cowboy sheets. In the next moment Blaine was inside. He wasn't supposed to interact with humans although sometimes he would take the shape of animals so he could play with kids. But as soon as he breathed the air in the room he knew something was wrong.

Blaine appeared as a young man with dark hair dressed in a simple shirt and pants with his messenger bag. Every once in a while a young child could see him even in his angel form. It was only in the early years and they almost always lost the Sight when they grew up. Blaine approached the bed. The boy - Dustin - Blaine just knew his name - was unconscious but it was not a natural sleep.

Blaine held out his hand over the boy. There was a bump on the back of his head. He had fallen on the playground earlier that day and hit his head - hard. Something was drying on the sheets near his mouth. He had thrown up. Some Angels had the power to heal but not Blaine.

Where were his parents?! Even as the thought formed in Blaine's mind, he knew. One was downstairs in the kitchen, preparing the evening meal; the other was fiddling with the radio while stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Blaine's wings fluttered in agitation. It was expressly forbidden for him to appear to humans but could he go downstairs and create a sense of dread for their child? That would not be interfering, would it?

Did the Angels of Heaven know what he meant to do? Because a terrible cold filled the room. Angels did not feel cold, or heat, the way humans did. They knew that it was cold or hot but never actually felt it. Blaine sometimes wished he could, wished he could feel the warmth of sunlight when he stood outside. He had seen humans turn their face toward the sun and close their eyes with an expression of pleasure and wanted to know what that felt like. Maybe he shouldn't because this cold sank into his skin and curled around his bones in a way that made him shudder. He was not alone.

There was another, skin as pale as moonlight, bright blue eyes that looked at him as if he had no right to be here. Then his eyes shifted to the boy. Blaine's wings unfurled protectively over the child. Those unreadable blue eyes came back to Blaine and his own wings extended out challengingly so much like his own yet nothing like his white ones. This Other's was as black as night. The icy chill swept through Blaine once again causing him to stumble back uncertainly.

Who was he?! Blaine had seen an Archangel only a few times; the power that emanated from them was truly awesome but not like this and their wings were white. Was he a Warrior Angel? He had never seen one. Blaine could only watch as this Other held his hand out over the prone boy as he had done. Was he going to heal him?

Then Blaine saw it, the bright glowing soul within the child. It was lifting up.

"NO!" Blaine shouted. He wasn't healing him, he was taking his soul!

Blaine rushed at the Other. He snapped his face up to Blaine, it was terrifying in its beauty then Blaine saw the skull beneath and there was a flash of a long bright metal blade. Pain slashed across the back of his hand and shot up his arm. Blaine looked down and couldn't comprehend what he saw. Blood seeped from the open cut across his hand. He had never known pain, never knew Angels could bleed.

He clutched his hand as the Other's pale white fingers closed around the soul. The boy's now lifeless body laid beneath his cowboy sheets. The Other just returned Blaine's incredulous stare indifferently and then he was gone.

Blaine was... afraid.

~*~

"Lailah! LAILAH!"

The Mother of Souls rushed out. She had never seen her Little Warbler so distressed. Blood still ran from the wound that did not heal.

"What happened?" she gasped.

The story came pouring out of him in a heedless gush, his eyes wide with fright, and when Mercedes held out her arms Blaine immediately sought the comfort and safety of her hug. She sat him down and took his hand between her own. Healing power flowed from her touch, the ripped flesh mended back together and the pain receded until it was nothing.

"And he took the soul!" Blaine cried. "He just took it! Someone has to tell Rasuil. He was...." Blaine searched for a word to describe what he had seen but it was so far beyond anything he had ever known. "He was.... he was evil."

"He is not evil, Little Warbler," Mercedes soothed, trying to calm him. They certainly were not going to bring this to Rasuil, the Angel of God, the Archangel through whom God spoke to all the angels of Heaven. "His name is Azryel, he is an angel."

Blaine was bewildered. "How can he be an angel? His wings are black!"

"That is because he is your opposite," Mercedes explained. "He is the Angel of Death."

"My--" Blaine couldn't even finish that sentence.

"Opposite," Mercedes supplied. "Just as you carry souls into the world so he carries them out. Where you are warmth and light, he is cool and shadow. Your wings are white, his are black."

Blaine tried to digest this. Everything she said sounded plausible but his mind resisted the idea that there was another angel like him but reversed and he never knew about it. "He hurt me. I thought nothing could hurt an angel."

"Nothing mortal can." The Mother of Souls sighed. This was her fault, she knew, for not telling him. Blaine was so pure in his goodness, in his joy for life that she had not wanted to taint his innocence with even the thought of dark things. "But Death has a Scythe; it is an Angel's Blade like the ones the Warrior Angels carry."

"But why does he have one? Why would he attack me?"

Mercedes debated how much to say. She was loathed to tell him of Lucifer's Insurrection when he defied God's command for all Angels to love Man as they loved God. How the then Angel of Life was the first to die trying to protect humans from Lucifer's fury. How that had led to the War of Heaven that ended with Lucifer and his chorus of Angels being forever cast out and forming Hell which led to the Covenant. Azryel carried the Scythe because he was the only Angel allowed to approach the Gates of Hell to deliver the souls of the damned. It was a warning to the demons of what would happen to them if they tried to break the Covenant by taking souls themselves.

"It is forbidden to interfere with Death. Humans are mortal, they are born and they die. That is the Order of Things. You must never tamper with it, Elijah. If you ever see him again, just... leave."

"But--"

"Death is not evil, Little Warbler. It is a part of the natural world; death follows life but life also follows death. Just as spring follows winter so death clears the way for life to begin again."

Blaine had to stop and think about that. "How does that child dying make life begin again?"

"It was only his mortal body that died. His soul is immortal and will be brought back to Heaven. And some souls are selected to be born again. But even so, it's not that bad to be in Heaven, is it?"

That was true. He hadn't thought of it like that. Maybe he had been too quick to judge that Other - Azryel, he corrected himself. Winter wasn't evil, and though he loved spring and summer best, there was a kind of beauty to winter. Azryel had been beautiful too - terrifying - but beautiful.

~*~

[Trigger Warning: death of unborn child. No graphic description though.]

The wind rustled through the feathers of Blaine's wings as he rode the summer breeze, wings and arms out-stretched, his eyes closed, delighting in the peace and harmony of the world. Heaven may be perfection but there were times when Blaine enjoyed Earth more, for all its imperfections and contradictions.

Time, for instance. It did not exist at all in Heaven yet it continued to pass on Earth. Blaine traveled between both worlds effortlessly with hardly a thought about it. He moved through the time-ticking world of humans without ever being a part of it, only becoming aware of it as he saw the changes it wrought in the souls he delivered.

He had just played a game of chase with a flock of ravens and now he skimmed low through a city park. A pregnant woman ate her lunch on a park bench. As he swept by, Blaine remembered her. It was a mere blink of an eye to him when he deposited that precious soul within her, but she was already five months along. Blaine swooped back in a lazy arc to land by her side.

He smiled at the memory of bringing this soul to her. Memories were a funny thing, like Time, he knew them as they happened but they fluttered away once the moment passed. Yet they came back to him whenever he caught sight of something or someone he had experienced before. They'd be gone again as soon as he left her. This never troubled him.

Then a memory that Blaine had been happy to forget came back in terrifying recollection. A cold swirled around him and sank into him, only this time, he knew what it meant. The woman on the bench seemed to as well without realizing it. She gasped.

The bowl of soup tumbled from her hand so she could clutch her swollen belly.

Blaine turned, instinctively he spread his wings, standing between her and - Azryel! He was pale and beautiful as Blaine remembered him. He did not speak but Blaine knew he remembered him as well.

The woman behind him cried out in pain. "No, please," Blaine pleaded. "It hasn't even been born!"

Blue eyes glared at Blaine and he recalled Lailah's stricture, it was forbidden to interfere with Death. She told him he should leave if he ever saw him again but Blaine couldn't! Though he did back away, the memory of pain stinging across the back of his hand.

'It wasn't fair!' Blaine thought as Death approached the woman clutching her stomach. It wasn't even going to have a chance at life! Never feel sunlight, never run, never laugh or jump or smell rain! "Don't!" Blaine begged. "She hasn't even held it yet or kissed it!"

It was as if he never heard a word Blaine said, Death reached out his pale-white hand. Blaine stared in wide-eyed alarm and an emotion he'd never felt before swelled up inside him and suddenly he was crying out, "NO!"

The Angel of Death heard him that time because he turned toward Blaine just as Blaine's hands made contact with his chest and Death stumbled back a couple of steps.

Blaine stood there in shock and disbelief. What had he done? He had never struck anyone before! And what kind of wrath would he face because of it? But Death looked almost as stunned as Blaine. Had no one dared to lay hands on Death before? Or was it that no one had ever moved Death?

Either way, something hot and sharp flashed in his blue eyes and Blaine saw the skull beneath his beautiful face and Death's Scythe was in his hands, terrible to behold.

The memory of pain, searing and hot, burned up his arm and Blaine was hastily backing away. Fear gripped him but it was not he that Death advanced on. Passers-by had come to the woman's aid and were calling for help, to no avail, nothing would deterred the Angel of Death this time as he stretched out his hand for the unborn soul.

Blaine watched in distress as the pale hand closed around the glowing ball of light. "Please," Blaine whispered, voice shaking. "Sing to it, soothe it, so it won't be afraid."

But Death just glared at him and then he was gone.

~*~

Sing to it, soothe it, so it won't be afraid.

The words would not leave Kurt's mind. Neither would the fear. Not his fear but theirs. The souls of the damned screamed with it until he left them with the demon that guarded the Gates of Hell. Even the souls destined for Heaven cried with it as did the living who attended the dying.

This was nothing new, the dead, the dying, always cried. The living grieved, silently to themselves or outwardly for all to hear. It had always been this way. It had never troubled Kurt before. This was the Way of Things.

But Kurt didn't just hear the cries now and not in some sort of distant way that he never had to pay too much attention to, he felt it. And it gave him no peace, no corner of his mind that he could retreat to and find solace. It was driving him mad. So Death did something he never did before - he spoke to the soul gripped in his hand.

"Stop crying," he said to it but it just quivered in his grasp and wailed its fright.

Sing to it

But Kurt did not know any songs.

Why was this happening? It all started with that Other who had touched him, Kurt was sure of it. The Other had put his hands on him, one directly over his heart, and pushed him. That should have been impossible. Death was immovable yet that other angel had forced him back. Who did he think he was? Even Guardian Angels knew to give way to the Angel of Death when a soul's time had come. Never before had an Angel of Life challenged Death. It was rare for them to ever meet and Anahita, the last Angel of Life, had always fled. As he should, there was something disturbing about having both in the same place at the same time.

This One had done something to him and it was intolerable and could not be allowed to stand.

~*~

"You! What have you done?!"

When the Angel of Death appeared before him, his voice sharp with accusation, Blaine vanished in fright. He found himself atop a building, uncertain of the city he was in, trying to calm himself.

"Do you think you can hide from me? That I can't find you?"

Blaine whirled around and Kurt was there, tall and splendid and fearsome. "I have done nothing," he protested.

"You laid hands upon me," Kurt accused. "You changed me!"

"Changed you?" Blaine's eyes widened. "How did I do that?"

Dismay broke through Kurt's anger. He saw nothing but innocence in Blaine's golden eyes. Only newborn souls were so pure. He really didn't know, this was not something he had meant to do. So then how could they undo it?

"I hear them, I feel them, their fear, their anguish, their pain!" Kurt began to pace. He didn't know how to deal with these emotions, disturbing and new. They made him restless. "It never stops."

"You never felt them before?" Blaine asked surprised. He always knew what the souls felt, it never occurred to him that it wasn't so for other angels.

"No! You did this to me," Kurt rounded on Blaine. "You have to make it stop."

"Why?" Blaine genuinely didn't understand why this was a problem. "This is a good thing. Now you can ease their fears."

Kurt was angry again. This was nonsense. "Everyone fears Death, all but a small few. It is not for me to.... to change that."

Blaine tilted his head and looked up with a sincerity that Kurt found disarming. "Why not? Why must everyone fear Death?"

"They just do," Kurt stated simply as if it were an immutable fact.

"They wouldn't if you comforted them," Blaine answered just as simply.

Kurt stared at Blaine, no angel he had known had ever blatantly suggested changing the way things were as if he truly didn't understand why it shouldn't be so. It left him feeling bewildered. "I... I don't know how."

Blaine hardly paused before he stepped toward Kurt and slipped his hand into the other angel's. Kurt's lips parted in surprise, his eyes dropping down to their joined hands. When he looked up, Blaine was smiling with his golden eyes. "Let me show you," he said.

And suddenly they were in a darkened room. A figure in the bed rolled over, shifting into a position to drift off to sleep.

Blaine let go of Kurt's hand so he could open his messenger bag. He scooped out the glowing soul and cradled it in his palm, lifting it up for Kurt to see. As if it sensed Kurt, it quaked in distress. Blaine was quick to whisper soothingly to it. "Hush, you're safe."

But then Blaine glanced up in worry at Kurt who answered, "It is not its time."

"You see, you have your whole life ahead of you," Blaine assured it. He hummed a soft melody over the little soul until it vibrated happily. Blaine's smile was as bright as the sun in the dark room. "Can you feel it?"

Kurt could. He eyed the soul resting protectively within Blaine's grasp, thrumming with a pleasure Kurt had never known. Every once in a great while a soul would actually welcome Death but even then, he could never call it happiness. Not like now, it was strange and new and Kurt didn't know what to make of it.

"Sing to it," Blaine was saying and Kurt almost backed away from the very idea. He shook his head. "I can't sing."

But Blaine was having none of it. "All angels can sing." Then his voice gently crooned, "Sleep now my pretty little one." He glanced up expectantly at Kurt. "Slumber on my precious little one." Blaine spoke the next line and waited.

Though Kurt's voice was low and uncertain as he sang, "Sleep in peace, the whole night thru" Blaine beamed with approval.

They continued that way, Blaine speaking the words then joining their voices together as if they had always done so.

Tucked in your trundle bed,
Angels are watching overhead.
Close your pretty eyes of blue,

At the last line, Blaine lifted his eyes to Kurt, flustering him. "This is my favorite part," Blaine confided. Grinning he moved to the bedside and whispered to the happy little soul, "This is your mother."

As the new soul was released to join with its mother, the soul within the woman glowed and a wave of warmth emanated from them both. Kurt gasped. "What was that?"

Blaine just smiled at him. "Love."

Kurt frowned, his black feathers rustling.

Standing, Blaine gazed fondly down at the mother and child for a moment before turning. "Isn't it marvelous?"

But Kurt was gone.

[A/N: The song is a Yiddish lullaby called Shlof in Zisser Ruh (Sleep in Sweet Rest)]

~*~

There was an Order to Things, a way things were done - had always been done - and they were not to be tampered with. There was a reason why Life and Death rarely met, they didn't belong together. Look at what happened when they did!

He was the Angel of Death, the Reaper of Souls! He came and collected the souls whose time had come. He took the damned to Hell and the rest to Heaven. It was not any more complicated than that. He wasn't supposed to have feelings about it or anything else! Strange and confusing feelings. And Kurt didn't want them!

He knew who he was, knew what his sacred duty was, knew how to perform it. Or he did! Now he didn't know what to think. Nothing made sense anymore.

He had to clear his head and go back to the way things were. He would forget the angel with the golden eyes and the pure soul like the newborns he carried. He would forget all these disturbing feelings. Order would be restored and everything would make sense again.

Kurt resolved himself to this and some sense of peace came back to him. Yes, this was good. He felt the tug, deep in his chest. It was time.

A girl of thirteen lay unconscious on the hospital bed, a tube down her throat, breathing for her. Machines standing vigil around her, beeped steadily. Sitting at her bedside, holding her hand, was her father. His head was bowed over their clasped hands in prayer.

Kurt had seen tableaux like this too many times to count. But this time the father's grief hit him like a wave as soon as he stepped forward.

God, please, not my little girl, not my baby!

Kurt froze as the pain ripped through him, making him gasp. 'No,' he told himself. 'This did not matter. It was time.'

So he approached the bed and reached out his hand. The soul was buried deep within the girl lost in the coma that had finally took her. Even so, as soon as she felt herself being pulled from her body, she began to scream.

NO NO NOOO! I CAN'T LEAVE HIM! I CAN'T LEAVE HIM ALL ALONE! I'M ALL HE HAS! DADDY!

Kurt cried out in pain as the anguish of both souls desperate to stay together even in this tortured way crashed over him in wave after wave until he thought he would drown in it.

He didn't know what happened next, only that he was running, running, running. He had to get away, he had to get somewhere - safe!

~*~

"Help me!" Kurt panted for breath.

Blaine was standing on the beach. He had just delivered a newborn to a couple vacationing at a seaside town and he stopped to watch the sea lions. He certainly didn't expect to see Kurt, his eyes wild with panic. He was instantly concerned. "Azryel?"

"I've done something terrible!"

Blaine rushed to Kurt's side. "What is it?!"

"It was her time but I didn't take her. I have disrupted the Order of Things!" Kurt didn't even know what the ramifications would be for something like this. "I should go back - fix this...." But just the memory of those emotions made Kurt shudder. Kurt looked up with sudden realization. "All I do is cause pain."

Blaine could feel Kurt's torment and all he wanted to do was somehow soothe it away. He grasped both of Kurt's hands and said softly, "Come with me."

~*~

The long mountain meadow grasses swirled about their legs in the gentle breeze. Blaine led Kurt by the hand to an open spot and he tugged Kurt to sit down in front of him.

"You spend too much time at the end of life," Blaine said. "You should see more of its beginning."

Blaine held his hands out over the ground and started to hum a quiet, nameless tune. Soon a green sprout stretched up out of the dirt looking for sunlight as young leaves unfurled. A tiny bud pushed through the stalk and grew and grew until it burst open into a colorful blossom. Blaine smiled and plucked the flower, holding it out to Kurt.

He reached out a pale finger to stroke a velvet petal, but as soon as he did, it withered and the entire blossom crumpled. Pain flashed across Kurt's face. "I destroy everything I touch."

"No," Blaine protested and grabbed Kurt's hand before he could pull away and lifted it up to lay against his cheek. "Not everything."

Kurt's lips parted. He was constantly amazed that Blaine thought nothing about touching him, touching Death. "You're beautiful," he breathed as he let his fingertips graze across Blaine's cheek to his jaw. Blaine's lips curved into a gentle smile.

Suddenly Blaine leaned forward and when his lips brushed Kurt's, Kurt gasped. They stared at each other astonished and uncertain. Then Kurt connected their lips again for a kiss that flooded his whole being with warmth and light. When they parted again they could only stare in wonder.

"I don't think this is allowed," Kurt whispered.

"Why not?" Blaine demanded.

Kurt wanted to lose himself in the pure innocence of Blaine's eyes that saw nothing wrong in what they had done but Kurt knew they were breaking so many Rules, rules for which they would be punished. Kurt was on his feet, pacing in agitation.

"I should go back before it's too late," Kurt whispered. He could hear the fear in his own voice. But when he thought about the girl and her father, it made him sick to his stomach. His hands came up to cover his face.

"Azryel?" Blaine was at his side, coaxing his hands down.

"I don't want to kill," Kurt confessed.

"Then don't."

Kurt laughed mirthlessly. Why was everything so simple for Blaine? "I am Death!"

"Would it be so bad to let her stay with her father? Why do they have to be taken if they don't want to go?"

Kurt shook his head. "No one ever wants to go. Can you imagine? Babies being born and no one dying."

Blaine thought a moment. "What if there weren't babies born? It could all stay the same. What if we could just... run away."

The outrageousness of that made Kurt gape, his voice hushed lest it be overheard somewhere. "You don't know what you're saying! Where in Creation could we run that we cannot be found?!"

A sadness pulled at Blaine's expression as he could not deny the truth of that. But then a glimmer of hope rose in its place. "What if they didn't need us? There was another Angel of Life before me. Why can't there be another after me, another Death?"

Kurt's lips parted. Was that even possible? He didn't know.

"I don't want you to go." The plaintive note in Blaine's voice raised Kurt's eyes to Blaine's hopeful ones and he wanted that too. "Stay with me...."

A storm of feelings Kurt couldn't begin to name swirled inside him as he tried to find a way through when a sudden realization struck him. "What is your name?"

"Elijah," Blaine replied, "but the Mother of Souls always calls me Little Warbler." He leaned closer to Kurt. "I could be your Warbler." He reached out to stroke the black feathers of Kurt's wing that glistened in the sun. How did he not realize that they were so beautiful? "And you will be my Blackbird."

Kurt's breath caught at the touch. The tempest churning within him slowed and calmed and he rested his forehead against Blaine's. A single powerful feeling enveloped him. He breathed, "Is this... love?"

Kurt's answer was in Blaine's sweet smile. They let their eyes drift close.

~*~

"Why have you summoned me?"

Uriel quaked before the Archangel Rasuil. He carried the Word of God, it was an awesome power that radiated from him. Uriel's wings rustled in dread of what he had to tell him. He gestured before him. "There are no souls."

Rasuil turned his head to see the empty stretch of white expanse leading up to the Gates of Heaven. Uriel motioned to the Great Book that lay open as if resting on some unseen podium. Glistening on its pages was the list of names of souls to be admitted to Heaven, yet to be checked off.

"I have called for Azryel, but he does not answer," Uriel explained. Unspoken was his fear of what this meant.

Before Rasuil could respond, a shudder past through Heaven and a blackness formed in the distance. It scrabbled toward them, rearing up on its animal hindquarters. A Great Clap of Thunder roiled behind them. God knew a Demon of Hell had come to the Gates of Heaven.

Uriel dropped back in fright and all the Angels cried out their distress. The Angel of God rose up to his full height and his voice shook the Gates as he commanded, pointing a finger at the blackened, twisted Fallen Angel. "It Is Forbidden For A Demon of Hell To Enter Heaven!"

One by one, Warrior Angels appeared, Holy Light shining out of them, sheathed in their golden breastplates and brandishing their Angel Blades mounted on their sword hilts or tipping their spears.

The Demon's leathery wings unfurled and it hissed, its breath stinking of Brimstone. "Lucifer has sent me to demand to know why the souls of the damned have not been brought to Hell."

"Souls have not been delivered to you?" Rasuil asked astonished.

"As if you didn't know," the Demon spat.

As much as it appalled him to admit, Rasuil said, "I did not." He lifted his voice and called, "Azryel!"

When the Angel of Death did not appear, the Demon hissed and the Warrior Angels lifted their weapons.

"Silence!" the Angel of God ordered then he waved his hand in a circular motion to open a mirror to Earth. From Below he heard the cries of those who could not die, joining them were the wails of those who could not conceive. "Lailah!"

Mercedes, the Mother of Souls, alighted next to Uriel who clutched the bars of the Gates of Heaven.

"Where is Elijah?" Rasuil demanded.

Mercedes looked guilty. "He has not returned to Heaven. He does not come when I call," she admitted reluctantly.

"An insurrection in Heaven?" the Demon cackled in wicked delight.

"Back to Hell, Demon," Rasuil rounded on the Fallen Angel. "I will restore Order."

The Demon's mouth curled into a horrific smile and he pointed a clawed finger at the Angel of God. "You know well what will happen if you do not!"

And it vanished leaving a foul stench behind it.

~*~

Kurt couldn't believe he had never done this before. Flying... for the sheer joy of it!

Blaine's magnificent white wings beat downward repeatedly as he climbed higher and higher in the sky. His arms and wings stretched out to their full length for a heartbeat then his wings folded and Blaine fell. Whooshing by him so close Kurt could clearly see Blaine's expression of pure bliss! Kurt laughed.

For the first time in all his existence, Kurt laughed!

He stroked his own black wings, gaining height, rejoicing in the strength of his wings. He dropped his shoulder and let gravity take him and pull him down, spiraling as he fell. He laughed again as he broke out of the dive, catching an updraft to climb back up once more.

They soared and swooped and played a game of tag in and out of little fluffy clouds. Blaine's laughter was like music to Kurt and he would chase it anywhere.

Kurt marveled at the majesty of the tree-covered mountainside below them but he glanced over as Blaine dropped in along side him. When he held out a hand to him, Kurt's lips curved into a smile and he reached out his own hand until their fingertips brushed.

All at once Kurt convulsed and his wings collapsed and Kurt dropped from the sky like a stone. Before Blaine could even cry out Kurt's name, blinding pain clawed through him and he was plummeting to earth.

~*~

Blaine hit the earth so hard he could only lay there in stunned disbelief, uncertain he could move his limbs again. Only fear for Kurt made him struggle to lift his head. His breath caught on a strangled cry.

Kurt was there, mere feet away yet too far to reach out to, a broken marionette of jumbled arms and legs and wings.

Blaine's eyes continued past Kurt to the stark white robes. Blaine's mouth dropped open and his eyes lifted up and up to take in the glory of an Archangel, wings outstretched, face etched with wrathful judgment. Rasuil!

"You dare to not answer me when I call!"

Rasuil's voice was a tremor through the earth and Blaine shook with fear. He had brought this down upon Kurt! Desperately Blaine clawed his way to Kurt trying to shield him with his own body. "Please, don't punish him! This is my fault. I asked him not to go back."

Rasuil glared down at Blaine. "You told him to abandoned his sacred duty?"

As if from a great distance, Kurt heard Blaine's pleading voice. "Yes. I wanted him to stay with me." Kurt wanted to call out to Blaine but he couldn't seem to make his voice work. He saw now just how foolish they were to think they could get away with this. He had to stop Blaine before he made it even worse but Blaine was speaking again. "I love him." Too late!

Scowling disapproval drew Rasuil's brows together. "As you love God?!"

God in Heaven, say yes!

But Blaine's sweet innocence could only answer with the truth. "As I love him."

"That love is God's gift to Humans, not to Angels!" Rasuil admonished.

"Why? Why can't angels love?" Blaine could not understand why it could ever be wrong to love.

Dark storm clouds gathered and roiled above them, wind whipped the surrounding tree branches. "Because of this!" Rasuil snapped. "For your love, you have wrecked chaos throughout the world! You threatened to break the Covenant Between Heaven and Hell."

"But must it be us?" Blaine protested. "Blac-- Azryel doesn't want to kill. There was another Angel of Life, couldn't you make another?"

"You became the Angel of Life when the last one died," Rasuil said.

Kurt panicked. Blaine had never seen an angel cast out, he had no idea where this was going! With every ounce of will Kurt possessed, he made his body move, struggling to sit up. Blaine's arms wrapped around him to help him. They clung to each other at the feet of the Angel of God.

"Please, Rasuil, he meant no harm," Kurt implored. "He doesn't know."

"Then let him know!" the Archangel decreed. Lightning slashed across the sky. "Hear the harm you did not intend!"

Voices crying, screaming, filled both their minds. The suffering that had no ending, plaintive pleas that went unanswered, an entire world full. Kurt and Blaine clapped their hands over their ears but nothing would shut it out.

"See the harm you did not intend!"

[Trigger Warning: Newborn death. No graphic description]

They were in a hospital, in a neonatal intensive care unit. All manner of blinking, beeping machines surrounded a plastic-walled, isolation chamber. Blaine cried out and turned away from what he saw. He buried his face into Kurt's shoulder and wept.

Kurt held Blaine as he trembled but his eyes remained on the tiny deformed infant inside. He could feel the little souls suffering and he knew Blaine could too.

"This baby was mis-shapened at conception and should have been miscarried because it cannot survive like this," Rasuil explained. "Only now it cannot die."

A cold kind of finality tightened inside Kurt's chest. He knew what had to happen. He did not know if Blaine would understand why he had to do this. He knew this would hurt Blaine but not to would hurt him more. And now that he could feel the pain of souls, he could do nothing else.

Kurt closed his arms around Blaine for one moment trying to commit to memory the feel of him in his arms before gently pulling away. He heard Blaine's intake of breath, felt his eyes watching him as he stepped around to the isolette. Kurt held out his hand and the glowing little soul lifted into his grasp. The labored breathing of the poor infant stopped.

Raising his eyes to meet Blaine's, Kurt whispered, "I'm sorry."

Tears blurred Blaine's golden eyes as he shook his head. "You don't cause pain, you end it. I was wrong. I thought I had to teach you kindness. I didn't see. Death is a kindness."

A new kind of pain clenched at Kurt's heart. He thought Blaine would blame him but instead he understood and that understanding conferred a forgiveness that Kurt didn't even know he wanted until this moment.

Rasuil broke into that moment. "You will never see each other again."

"Please no," Blaine begged.

"You will go back to your duties and you will never see each other again," the Archangel reiterated, "or you will be cast down."

"I agree," Kurt answered promptly and turned to Blaine when he spoke his name, his voice edge with hurt. "He will take your wings, your beautiful wings! I cannot bare that. We stole a moment that was never meant for us. Just remember that in that moment I loved you."

As Kurt stepped backward, he faded away, leaving Blaine staring at an empty space.

"Elijah?" Rasuil demanded more than asked.

Blaine was trying to breathe through the tightness constricting his chest, his eyes never leaving the empty space. He nodded.

~*~

[Trigger Warning: Teen death. No graphic description.]

Kurt stood in the doorway of the hospital room bracing himself for the emotions that would hit him and still he was unprepared for what greeted him.

The man at his daughter's bedside was gaunt as if he had not ate or slept for days. He still prayed but his prayer had changed. Dear God, I can't stand to lose her but if you're going to take her, please, take her now. I can't take this. End her pain.

Kurt looked over to the young girl lying prone in the bed. The tube from her mouth was gone yet she continued to breathe, a horrible sickly breathing. The doctors could not understand how she continued to live when more and more of her organs shut down. Removing the intubation tube was meant to end her suffering but it did not and now all they could do was try to manage her pain with medication.

Of course, Kurt knew why she did not die. The soul trapped inside her failing body just cried, cried for her own pain, cried for her father's. Kurt came to the side of the bed on the opposite side of the man. He held out his hand over her and knew she could feel him.

He whispered to her, "It's time now. You have been so brave but it's time to end the pain."

The little soul lifted free of its mortal shell and into his hand where he cradled it. Daddy, he heard its cry. Kurt brought her around to her father whose head was bowed over her hand that he held clasped in both of his.

"Tell him it's okay to let go," Kurt soothed her. "You are going somewhere where you will never know hurt ever again. Tell him that love does not end with death."

He held the glowing soul out to her father until deep within him his soul glowed too. Warmth filled the room. The man inhaled sharply, bringing a hand up to his mouth as he breathed her name. His pain changed, there was grief at her passing but it was tempered by overwhelming relief that her suffering was over.

I love you, Daddy

"Love you always, Peanut," he whispered.

Kurt felt them letting each other go, knowing it wasn't for forever.

~*~

Mercedes held out the little soul in her hands.

Blaine opened his bag and scooted it toward the Mother of Souls for her to deposit the soul inside.

"Won't you hold it?" she cajoled. Her heart ached for her Little Warbler. There was no joy in his golden eyes anymore, no smile that touched his lips. Such sorrow etched every line of his face that she wanted to cry the tears he would not.

Blaine shook his head. "It will feel my sadness. It should never know that." He whispered sweet assurances to the soul in his bag.

"Sing to it," Mercedes urged him, but he shook his head again. "Little Warbler--"

"Don't... call me that," he flinched. "I have no more songs to sing."

~*~

Rasuil lifted his head at hearing his name called. He saw Uriel flutter before him clearly upset. Rasuil scowled, "The souls have not stopped coming, have they?"

"Oh no, they come," Uriel assured the Archangel but he wrung his hands. "Too many come."

"What do you mean too many?"

"Souls are at the Gate but their names are not in the Book!" Then he hastened to add, "Because they were sent to Hell."

"Azryel has been bringing the souls of the damned to Heaven?!" Rasuil thundered.

Uriel cringed before the Angel of God's anger. "No, they have come on their own."

"Souls stained with sin cannot be allowed into Heaven," Rasuil reminded Uriel. "They must return to Hell."

"But that's just it," Uriel fretted, "they are not stained, they are cleaned of their sins." Rasuil frowned at him. "When I asked them how this happened, they said that an angel visited them in Hell and showed them how to repent."

"An angel with black wings," Rasuil noted and Uriel nodded. "AZRYEL!"

The Angel of Death appeared instantly. He knelt before him. Rasuil huffed disdainfully at the act of obeisance, glaring down at him for a time, before calling, "Elijah. Lailah."

Kurt looked up sharply but then lowered his head once more.

Blaine sucked in a breath when he saw Kurt kneeling before Rasuil but any happiness at seeing him was cut off when Kurt refused to look at him, keeping his head bowed. Even now he kept his word. Mercedes slid a comforting arm around him.

"Have you been visiting souls in Hell?" Rasuil demanded.

Kurt answered without hesitation, "Yes, I have been showing them how to repent their sins so they can enter Heaven."

Mercedes' hand flew up to her mouth in shock. Blaine, too, was stunned. He couldn't believe that Kurt had dared to do something so dangerous, but he was saving souls!

Rasuil did not think it wonderful, his voice shook with anger. "It is forbidden for an Angel to enter Hell as it is for a Demon to enter Heaven. You risk a War Between Heaven and Hell!"

"But if a soul can be saved---" Kurt tried to argue but the Archangel cut him off.

"That is a matter for God and Lucifer to decide, not for a mere angel!"

"But---"

"This is your doing!" Rasuil accused only now he was not speaking to Kurt but to Blaine.

Blaine gaped. "I have kept my word! I have not seen him!"

"He would not lie," Mercedes defended her charge.

"I acted alone," Kurt added. "If you must punish me, I accept that. But he had nothing to do with this."

Rasuil was unconvinced. "This is his influence on you, don't try to pretend it isn't."

Blaine rushed forward falling to his knees beside Kurt. "Please, Rasuil, why is it wrong to save souls?!"

Even the Angel of God softened a little when confronted with Blaine's golden eyes. "It is the manner in which he does it. Only God can renegotiate the terms of the Covenant. To break it means war. You have never seen Angels killing Angels, and Humans caught inbetween."

Kurt flushed. Perhaps he went about this the wrong way.

Rasuil paced before the two contrite angels. When he stopped, he spoke with the definitiveness of having come to a decision. "I call upon the Angels of Heaven to bear witness."

Mercedes caught her breath. "Rasuil, have mercy!"

The Angel of God paid no attention to her but continued, "I had hoped that it would be enough to separate you two but it is clear now that you have corrupted each other - irreparably. No longer can you remain angels!"

Only now as Rasuil stretched his hands out to them did Kurt turn to look at Blaine, fear and need in his blue eyes. He reached out to at least touch Blaine one last time. Blaine's hand shot out too but not before light consumed them both so blinding that all the Angels of Heaven had to turn away to shield their eyes.

It was several moments before Mercedes dared to open her eyes again, she heard other angels weeping and trembling. She choked back a sob. Rasuil stood there with a glowing light held in the palm of each hand. He had not cast them out - he had stripped them of their souls!

~*~

"Come on, Lizzie, one more push!"

Her hair clung to her sweat-damp brow as she strained forward, her husband's arm braced around her shoulders, crying out. The words of encouragement from her husband and doctor blurring together as nonsensical noise with her blood pounding in her ears.

She didn't need to hear the doctor announce that he was out, her entire body collapsed back in utter exhaustion, panting for breath. The cool cloth wiping across her forehead was pure heaven. Her husband pressing kisses to her temple, whispering, "You did it, honey."

She laughed shakily, looking up at him. Burt Hummel wasn't the sort of man to wear his emotions on his sleeve but there was no hiding them in this moment, he was looking at her with awe and pride and her heart swelled in response. The love she had for him seemed to know no bounds. "Did he say he?" Burt's grin was from ear to ear as he nodded. "A boy! Where is he? Let me hold him."

The nurse brought the tiny infant wrapped snugly in a warm blanket and placed him in her waiting arms. His cries quieted into fussy noises when she cradled him close. Elizabeth Hummel's laugh shook with joy and exhaustion and love. Burt was right there next to her, one arm around her, the other reaching out to his son. "Hey there, Kurt," he greeted gruffly.

"Really, Burt? Kurt?" Lizzie scoffed.

"What?" Burt feigned surprise. "You're the one who nixed Burt Junior."

She gazed down fondly at her baby, making little noises as if debating whether he wanted to cry again or fall asleep. When she murmured "Kurt" down at him, he blinked and looked up at her with blue eyes. He managed to get one chubby fist free of his blanket and immediately latched onto Burt's little finger and refused to let go.

"Hey! Look at that!" Burt grinned proudly, shaking his finger but Kurt stubbornly held on. "What a grip! That's exactly how you hold a football!"

"And what are you going to do if he doesn't like football?" Lizzie queried.

Burt looked genuinely shocked at such heresy but tried to compromise. "Basketball would be okay too."

"Burt!" she admonished gently then told their son, "We're going to love you no matter who you grow up to be... right?"

"Of course," he readily agreed but couldn't resist adding, "But this is Ohio, the Buckeye State, and we hate Duke."

"Burt!"

~*~

"Mr. Anderson," the doctor called when he entered the waiting room.

Nathaniel Anderson looked up from his magazine and put it aside to join the doctor who grinned at him and shook his hand. "Congratulations, you have a son."

Nathaniel returned the smile and the handshake. "Thank you, doctor."

"You can come back now," she offered.

"Yes," Nathaniel agreed. "Cooper! Let's go meet your brother."

Cooper Anderson was kneeling in front of a chair, playing. He gave his Superman doll a dubious expression. Sighing, he twisted each arm upward and made a whooshing sound as he flew his Superman while he followed his father out the door.

Pamela Anderson sat up in bed, blankets neatly folded at her lap, her makeup already touched up. She always believed in presenting your best self to the world and wasn't about to let anything, not even giving birth, get in the way of that. She hadn't forgotten what a wreck her hair was after having Cooper so she decided to wear a turban even if it was a little too Norma Desmond from Sunset Boulevard.

She was cooing over the squalling little bundle in her arms but smiled, pleased, when her husband came in. She couldn't help noting that he still cut a dashing figure in his suit and tie. He bent to place a kiss to her cheek before smiling down at his new son. "He's got a full head of hair," he observed approvingly.

Pam hummed mostly in agreement but adding somewhat doubtfully, "Curls." They were adorable when they're babies but so unruly when they get older.

"Coop, what do you say?" Nathan clapped a hand on his young son's shoulder.

Cooper scrunched up his face. "He's loud!"

Pam smiled affectionately at the outraged baby who was indeed crying himself red-in-the-face with no signs of stopping. "That's good, though," she said. "A singer needs strong lungs. Don't they?" And she tapped a manicured finger on his tiny button-nose. "My little star!"

She slipped her finger into his mouth when he opened it for another cry. He looked startled for a moment then he grabbed her hand and started sucking noisily. "Aren't you? You're my little star, Blaine!"

All of a sudden Blaine smiled brightly around her finger, giving a squeal of delight.

~*~

The Mother of Souls, having sent the new Angel of Life off with the new souls to be born, waved her arm in a circular motion to open a mirror to Earth. She couldn't help herself; she had to see if her Little Warbler had found his happiness.

She beamed with pride at the dapper young man so handsome in his blue blazer with red piping, hurrying among all the other boys, an excitement in the air. Just as he stepped off the curving staircase, a voice brought him to a stop and had him turning around.

Two boys on the threshold of becoming men stared at each other in an expression of awe and wonder. Blaine would never know what sparked the impulse to reach out and take that boy's hand any more than Kurt could understand why that touch would move him so deeply. But Mercedes knew.

In another moment, Blaine sat, straight-backed, on a couch while Kurt stood so solemn, clothed entirely in black, his voice lifted in song: "Blackbird fly; Into the light of the dark black night."

Blaine raised his head as if he were remembering something long forgotten, he turned to stare at Kurt like he was seeing him for the first time and it was there in his yellow-hazel eyes, his heart was waking up.

"Their memories were supposed to be erased." From behind Mercedes, Rasuil spoke. There was sternness in his voice but no real anger.

"They were," Mercedes assured him. "I did it myself." She had also delivered their souls to Earth, unable to bear to let another do it. "But as you yourself pointed out, their souls are irrevocably tied to the other that cannot be undone. They will always recognize each other, no matter how many memories we take. Isn't that why you allowed them to be born as humans? So they could have the love angels cannot?"

The Angel of God peered down into the Mirror before giving the Mother of Souls a knowing smile.

Dressed in brilliant blue, Kurt could not tear his eyes from Blaine, resplendent in yellow, gazing up at him as if he were the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. "Which is why it's never really felt like I've been getting to know you, it's always felt like I've was remembering you from something. As if in every lifetime you and I have ever lived, we've chosen to come back and find each other and fall in love over and over... for all eternity."





~*~

Epilogue

Rasuil turned to leave but Mercedes stopped him with a question. "How did God get Lucifer to agree to Purgatory? I never thought he would let any soul in his grasp go?"

"Vanity," the Archangel answered simply. "By presenting Purgatory as a challenge, a battlefield where the forces of Good and Evil would fight for the fate of a soul after which the soul would ultimately choose to purge itself of its sin or sink deeper into it. To refuse would be admitting that was a battle he feared he might not win. Lucifer's arrogance could never let him admit to that."

"Ahhh, "Mercedes chuckled. Rasuil inclined his head but became thoughtful.

"That... and for all of his hatred, Lucifer still loves God."

The End