Interfering
This was originally written for the Thursday Prompt over at FA, the subject was 'prehistoric'.
Samael and Michael are copyrighted to... whoever wrote that book.
Interfering
by Winter
The universe was dying. Aeons had passed since the tide turned and time began to slow down. New worlds, stars, galaxies, clusters and dimensions had ceased to form and the old ones were gone. Dead. There was no more light. No more life. The only activity that remained was that of the gravitational wells which had, when colour and light had existed to contrast them, been called black holes. They fought and bickered over the last molecules of solid matter, and battled each other in wars where every attack took millions of years and where the battlefield was the entire universe. In the end, though, even these violent bodies came to rest. They drifted towards each other and converged, until only one remained. It contained everything that had once existed, and it was the size of a pinprick.
As time no longer existed, it is impossible to tell how long it lay dormant, frozen to absolute zero and still shrinking in on itself. Until it had reached the limits of compression. Until it was time for the tide to turn once again. The soup of subatomic particles had congealed until only the smallest were still stirring. Positive and negative, particles so small they had never had names, that were beyond the possibility of discovery or even contemplation, moving steadily towards each other in a spiral dance that had to end in death. Around them everything was now still, breathlessly waiting for them as they moved closer and closer, then touched.
And there was light.
Total entropy ensued the detonation, as waves of energy spread across the length and breadth and depth of the newly born universe. Time followed, roiling and crashing randomly and erratically. Light flowed over and around it. Light and fire. The heat was immense, and kept heavier matter from forming while time slowly settled into one direction and started ticking away millennia.
Life began to emerge; pseudo-beings that rode the light and bathed in the radiation. They revelled in the heat and took joy in each other's company. The universe was theirs, and they travelled it and explored it, sharing knowledge whenever they met. Soon they knew everything there was to know about their young home, and they grew placid. They failed to notice that the universe still expanded, and that gaps had begun to form in the web of heat and light they inhabited. Gaps of frightening chill that they were afraid to go near. Gaps that were so cold that solid particles began to form there. Gaps that grew until they became oceans that could not be crossed. The beings drifted apart, and when their fascination with the gigantic formations of quarks and the huge planets of electrons and positron that were forming before their perceptions ebbed away, they discovered something new. Loneliness.
Unable to share their knowledge, unable to meet their kin, they now found themselves trapped in pools of heat while the universe grew old and cold around them. Many died, others extinguished their own consciousnesses as despair took them. Others yet grew dormant, slept inside the atoms that had begun to take shape, letting the nuclear powers provide enough energy to keep them alive. A few of them sought ways to overcome their problems.
They used their powers to draw atoms to themselves, to let them collide and connect and form yet bigger things. In time, the process was taken over by gravity, and soon the first stars were born. Finally, they had heat and light again. Some stopped there, content to live and die with the stars they had created, while some still remembered what it was like to be connected to others. To other life. They used the last of their strength to reach out to the scraps of matter that surrounded their stars, and they paved the way for new life. Around these worlds, a dimension above them, they placed guardians. Then they rested, their duty as gods fulfilled, waiting for their creations to grow.
* * * * * *
The angel soared above the ground, feeling thick drops of cold rain splatter upon his body. It was invigorating. Much had changed since his last visit. It was colder. The dust from the volcanoes had mostly settled, and the stars, he knew, were now visible above the rainclouds. He was pleased to see that several of the sea creatures had ventured up onto land, and seemed to thrive there.
Movement caught his eye, and he spotted a nest of some kind. Most of the eggs were cracked and dead, but one was rocking slightly. He sat down to watch it. The ground against his bare skin felt rough, but he ignored the slight pains. Pain was a part of having a physical form, and a small price to pay for coming down here. He had looked into the possible future of one of the species now roaming the lands, and chosen one of the forms it might once take.
His skin was bare except for a mop or light blond hair on top of his head, and pale as the starlight. His eyes were a deep blue and sat in a narrow face with a small nose and thin lips. He walked on two legs, with arms and hands and fingers that were still millions of years away. If they ever came to be. On his muscular back, two white feathered wings lay folded. He smiled to himself. These definitely weren't in that species' future. But he needed them in order to travel between here and home.
While he had been thinking, it had ceased to rain. His focus returned to the tiny creature that was fighting its way out of its leathery eggshell. It had managed to pick a tiny hole, but its strength was clearly ebbing. Taking pity, the angel reached down and picked the egg up, then used his fingernails to help opening it. The lizard-like creature looked up at him, and he petted it gently. It sat in the palm of his hand, gasping for air, and he lent it some of his warmth to keep it from dying. They were so fragile. Ever so fragile. Then he noticed a presence behind him, just before a deep voice broke the silence.
"You know we're not supposed to help them, Samael. It's up to them who lives and who dies."
"This little one was in such trouble," Samael said softly, petting the tiny creature again. "Who knows, Michael, his kin might be the ones that prevail."
"Or he might grow up and eat the one who would have prevailed. Did you think about that?"
Samael said nothing, but turned to watch the newcomer. Michael's form was quite different from his own. He, too, walked on two legs and had arms and hands and fingers pretty much like Samael's own, but his body was covered in jet black fur, and his face had an elongated muzzle and feral, pointed teeth. Long black hair flowed down his back when he moved. The possible future of some other creature. Even his wings were black. As always, Samael found him to be the most beautiful of all angels, whichever form he took. He set his protégé down, then stood up and kissed Michael's cheek.
"You worry too much. Did it never occur to you, that even what we do might be a part of the grand plan?"
"No." Michael returned the kiss, but his dark eyes were cold. "We're not supposed to..."
"I know!" Samael snapped. "But how can you stand by and watch a newborn die? It's cruel!"
"It's the way of nature."
"It's cruel. It's so easy to help them. I wish I could do more."
"Not yet." They kissed again, and Samael leaned his head against Michael's broad chest. The dark angel was half a head taller than he. "Once we know which ones prevail. Not likely to be these, though. Pathetic little creatures. They'll be gone soon."
"You don't know that." Samael felt a furry hand rub up and down his back, and he shuddered as it grazed his wings. "What brings you to Earth, First One?"
"Not what, who." The hand now rested on his buttocks, sharp claws teasing the soft skin. "Your... absences... have been noticed."
"I like it down here."
"I know. But you have been gone for over a hundred years now. You really should return to Heaven."
"Should..." Samael reached in between them and tousled the coarse fur below Michael's navel, smiling as he felt something warm touch his hand. Something that was both soft and hard at the same time. "That doesn't sound like an order."
"Well, a suggestion is as good as an order." Michael turned around, pushing the hand away. "Some of the High are getting worried."
"Has He said anything?"
"Not yet."
"Then there's no problem." Samael lay down on a patch of soft grass and let his hands wander over his body. "We have plenty of time for some fun."
"Do you really want to wait until you incur His wrath?"
"His slight irritation, maybe." They laughed. "Come here."
* * * * * *
Much later, after enjoying most of the privileges that come with a physical form, the two angels stood up. They kissed and caressed each other, then separated. Michael was just about to spread his wings when Samael pointed to the horizon.
"Here comes the sun."
"You're really proud of that, aren't you?" Michael said, smiling. "Lightbringer."
"Well, it is pretty, don't you think?"
"Maybe. But you really need to stay away from here from now on."
"Why? You know I won't cause any real harm."
"We don't know that. Many are worried."
"And you, Michael?"
"I'm... concerned." He walked over to the tiny hatchling and trampled it with a crunch. "You shouldn't care so much."
"That wasn't necessary!"
"Yes, it was!" Samael tried to hit his lover, but Michael's superior strength and speed soon sent him crashing to the ground. "You must not interfere!"
"That is nonsense!" Samael said as he got to his feet. Tears were running down his cheeks, and his voice broke as he spoke again. "You know the plans! We're going to interfere over and over again."
"But not until one species emerges above the others, as sentient. Until, then, we don't."
"I just wanted to help..." Samael let himself be taken into a hug, and cried on Michael's furry shoulder. "I just want to help."
"You have a soft heart, Lightbringer. A kind and sweet heart, but too soft for your own good."
"And you... you're too harsh," Samael cried. "Too cold."
"Do I feel cold?"
"No."
"Let's go home."
"I love you, Michael."
"I love you, too." They spread their wings and took to the air. "Now and forever."
* * * * * *
Below them, as they sped up and prepared to shed their physical forms and shift planes in order to enter Heaven, something was moving. A small, furry creature peered out from behind a tree. It watched, mouth agape, the two ascending angels until they were out of sight. Then it forgot them, and its attention turned to the dead lizard hatchling. It stood up on its hind legs and waddled over to examine the possible morsel, picking it up with rudimentary hands and sniffing it carefully. While it ate, the sight of the angels returned to its mind, and it marvelled at this wondrous gift that had been bestowed upon it. Later that day, it gathered up the remains of the hatchling and placed them on a flat rock with some leaves and berries. It stretched its arms towards the sky, and offered thanks to the angels.