Chapter LIX

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Danny grabbed the unconscious, unmoving Dustyn around the waist as he floated in space. "You're gonna be alright, Dusty...gonna be alright, buddy. We're here."

Carter looked over at Louisa. "Let's hope so..."

The woman nodded.

            Gabriel closed his eyes and teleported the ragtag spiritual army that consisted of Dante the Watcher, the Original Souls, and Cherubum all near where he last saw the chariot.

            "Danny!!!" Angel said. She spotted the former truck driver and the others as the group appeared behind the chariot. "Michael stop!"

            "Whoa!l Michael pulled back on the golden reins to slow the horses. He swung the animals and the chariot around to meet up with Dante and the others.

            Danny frowned and looked down at the man in his arms.

            "Is that Dustyn...oh no! Dustyn!" Angel bounced from the chariot and flew over to the motionless man. She patted his face. "Dustyn...talk to me, damn you!"

            "...Angel?"

            The young woman grabbed Dustyn around the neck and hugged him tightly. She looked up at Danny. "You, too! Come here, dummy!"

            The truck driver opened his large arms and put them around his friends.

            "Let me see him," Michael said. "We don't have much time. Holok will not wait."

            Angel released Dustyn and pushed him toward the Archangel.

            Michael closed his eyes and placed his hands to Dustyn's chest as his body glided toward him.

            "Holy crap!" Dustyn exclaimed as an energy filled him...a power so intense it felt as if it were going to burn him from the inside out. This power rushed through his body like nuclear-powered adrenaline coursing through his veins. His arms and legs shot outward as light poured from his eyes and open mouth. After a moment or two, he fell silent and still, drifting away from Michael and the chariot.

            Danny removed his hand from his eyes. "Whut the heck was that, Mike?"

            Michael pointed up at Dustyn. "Patience."

            Dustyn floated for a moment and then shuddered. Once. Twice. His eyes shot open and he floated vertically. As he did, bright white energy wings emerged from behind his back.

            Angel leaned in. "I think Michael just made Dustyn a demonic angel."

            Carter laughed. "Hey, you got your Hawkman wings, nerd!"

            Dustyn spun around attempting to see his new appendages. He looked up at his friends, a large smile stretched over his face, but the smile faded quickly. Dustyn began pointing in excitement. "What the hell is that!?!!"

            Everyone turned to find a massive golden wave of Holok's cloud warriors flanked by Grigori rolling toward them.

            "Incoming!" Carter shouted.

            "Into the chariot Dustyn!" Michael commanded.

            Dustyn flew over and touched down in the rear of the vehicle. "Holok?"

            Michael nodded in affirmation.

            "Then what are we waiting for?"

            Taking the former King David's hand, Angel settled beside Dustyn in the back of the chariot. "Not without me." She glanced over at Carter.

            "Go on, you guys...we've got this!" the former lawman said extracting his God Guns.

            Michael snapped the reins and the horses charged forward.

            ________________________________________

            Holok prepared himself for the inevitable. Michael was coming and he was bringing something new with him. Something dangerous. He could feel it.

            ________________________________________

            Azazel looked around at the throngs of perplexed human souls milling about him in First Heaven. He could see the confusion in their faces. The reformed Archangel could feel it in their energy. The former Watcher didn't know how to help them. In fact, he didn't want to be here...he wanted to be out there with Michael and the rest of his friends, fighting. Friends...

            He began to leave.

            "Angel, sir?"

            "Yes, human?" Azazel asked, turning to locate the inquirer. It appeared to be a young man in his late teens dressed in the standard issue white toga of Heaven. Azazel examined the spirit, he knew that no matter this man's appearance this soul could be a few thousand years old or more. Looks were deceiving in this place.

            "Um, excuse me. Do you know what happened?"

            Azazel slowly nodded, suddenly realizing there were now a sea of human faces all looking to him for an answer. Not even a year ago, he would have destroyed them all for this insolence. Now, they frightened him. He was not afraid of them, per se. He was afraid of their judgment for what he had been and at this moment, their faces reminded him of the horrors he had committed upon their kind...all in the name of some ill-placed anger and loyalty.

            "Archangel? Do you know?" another voice asked.

            "Heaven was attacked," said a voice from behind Azazel. "And you were taken prisoner."

            The human souls gasped

            Azazel nodded as Raphael and Zachariel flanked him on either side.

            "Everything is now under control. There is no need to be alarmed. You may return to your realities."

            The human souls all nodded in understanding and prepared to leave.

            "Hello, brother," Raphael said with a nod. "Go ahead, Brother Azazel, open First Heaven and let them return to their realities. Do you remember how?"

            "I believe so," Azazel said lifting his hand. With a smooth sweeping motion, left to right the white nothingness fell away, revealing an arid desert.

            The humans all glanced at each other in confusion.

            Azazel closed his eyes and sighed.

            "Do not be frustrated, brother. It's alright," Zachariel said, placing his hand on Azazel's injured shoulder. "Try again."

            "Very well." This time as Azazel moved his hand over the dry terrain, it became a field of waving, green grass and blue sky. Azazel suddenly noticed the pain leaving his wing. It almost felt as if he was healing from the inside out.

            An atmosphere of joy filled the air as the ocean of humanity happily spilled out on the sunlit field. One-by-one they disappeared, all leaving for their respective realities.

            "Wonderful job and welcome home, brother," Zachariel said approvingly.

            Azazel politely dipped his head in acknowledgment. Nevertheless, he still felt as if he did not belong here, wings or not. He would rather be fighting.

            "I sense your unease, brother Azazel," Raphael said. "What is the matter?"

            "It's Michael and the rest of my...erm, the Original Souls. They could use my help in fighting Holok."

            Raphael and Zachariel looked at each other as if conferring thoughts. In unison they turned to Azazel. "Then, why are you still here?"

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