the k in knight is for kink

until they were tasked with bringing a human, a broken but righteous man who had sacrificed himself for his loved ones, an important man, chosen by the almighty, back from the dead and shepherding him along a holy path. their orders, god's will. no choice, no question but to follow. this was their duty. so, dutiful, they did. went to earth, flesh and bone, to be with him, to watch over him, to stand at his side.

this human, he changed everything.

he prodded, he questioned, he sobbed and raged and demanded why. he spit in the face of fate. faced with impossible odds, the angel watched this man as he refused to accept what every power told him was inevitable, all for sentiment, for loyalty, for love, for humanity. how strange a creature, how fascinating. inspiring, even. he says no, and somehow, he eschews destiny.

the angel began to doubt, the worst of all sins, and it weighs heavy on their wings. but what if this man, this tired resilient soul, was right? what if you didn't have to surrender to the current, to fate? what if god wanted them to swim against it? he'd brought them together, after all. tied them to this human, this brazen and brave, soft and hurting thing, this mind that thought so differently than their own. what if their duty was to follow in his footsteps, to push back against destruction, against the end of everything, even if it was lauded by all their fellows as the inevitable, as god's plan?

the man's question echoed though every part of them, every refraction of their light: what does god want from me?

the angel prayed for guidance. god did not answer. once faithless, now struggling with holy purpose he did not want or understand, the man prayed. god did not answer. so the angel answered. whenever he called, whenever he was in trouble, they came to him. he was their human charge, after all. they were his angel.

so many trials, so much pain. what heaven tried to put him through was unfair, unacceptable. so the angel did the unthinkable: they pushed back. refused orders. fought their brothers and sisters, killed their own kin. for him. to save him, to give him a chance to follow the path he felt was right, the one he chose for himself. he showed them how to be free.

and oh, how beautiful that freedom was.

the angel stayed by his side, through the impossible and after, and as they went, he taught them so much, intentionally and not. the angel watched; curious, rapt. he taught them about mercy, about comfort and indulgence, about sentiment, about sexuality, about selfishness, about friendship, about family. about pain and about love. about what it was to be human. sensitive, fragile, bonded.

his angel. their man.

they both brushed death countless times (and sometimes lost to it, but always found a way back), through perils and oddities and miracles, at the hands of monsters and horrors undreamt of by those who had a home to go back to at the end of the day. home, such a profound concept to humans. this man, he had no home. neither did the angel, not really. not after what they'd done, rebelled against heaven; not that they had one to begin with. that wasn't how it worked for angels. home was a foreign, human concept.

how gut-wrenching to come so close to understanding such a thing, and yet be so far from it.

when the man lost everything, the angel wanted to be merciful. to allow him peace, rest, retirement. a home, a family of his own. a simple life. despite the chaos still raging in heaven, hell, and earth; despite how he was all the angel had, the only one to turn to; they left him be. let him rest. mercy, comfort, love.

pain.

the angel did what they knew: they fought, and they watched. they tried to help. they were neck-deep in a losing battle. they stood, unseen, at the sidelines of a simple human life, watching their man live quietly, care and be cared for; resisting the temptation to reach out and tap him on the shoulder, to call to him.

they prayed. no one answered. they fought, and watched, and they were losing, and everything could have fallen apart. evrrything. they couldn't let that happen.

so they made a deal, a wicked deal with a unholy beast. mutually beneficial, the demon called it. the angel had already fallen so far, what's another on the pile? they couldn't give up, not now. there was too much at stake.

suddenly, they were a commander instead of a soldier. they were pushing back, standing up, renouncing their brother who would see everything they love destroyed. rallying troops. mounting battles. they had started a civil war in heaven, and they cannot stop.

there was, is, too much to lose.

now, in quiet moments, they beg to be stopped. no one answers. so they march on.

but this deal, it is a sin, graver than any they've done, even than doubt. their friends in heaven and on earth would be horrified. so they lie. they deceive. they hide it, do the messy work in private.

working with demons, making monsters into weapons. making the sacrifices that war demands of them, justifying atrocity. killing old comrades, former friends. endangering innocents, collateral damage. high prices. blood money. greater good.

the dead pile up. they look away and wash the blood off their hands and lie through their teeth to their closest ones, their friends. to him.

they are free, but there is only one choice. they cannot stop, all because of him, of what he taught them. all for him.

when the secret slips, when denial turns to questioning, demands for the truth, the angel tries to explain all this. but it's too late.

the emotions on his face are the gutting. betrayal, disappointment, appal. after seeing him take on so many horrors with a straight face or a smile, he looks at them and is horrorified.

they try to make him understand. this is for your own good, your protection. to keep the world you live in turning, to keep all of creation from being rendered ash by a tryant or an unfair fate. this was them trying to do right by him, to be his guardian, his angel.

their man looks sick to his stomach. this isn't how we do things. you should've asked for help. you should've come to me, we could have found something else, anything but this.

I did it all for you. I did it all because of you.

he can't stop.

then, a line the angel has heard again and again from this man's lips, words that inspired so much courage and pride in them, inspired them to step off the ledge and plunge into the unknown.

there has to be another way.

but, he tells them, you made the wrong choice. the worst choice. that can't be undone. he can hardly believe it, after denying and defending them against the suspicions of his family, that his angel could do this, and in his name. he trusted them. god, what have you done?

disappointment, disgust, and grim acceptance on the most familiar, most beloved of faces. their man.

I fell for you. rebelled for you. everything, everything, everything for you.

doubt burns like hellfire in their core. they had been so sure.

you lied to me. you lied because you know what you're doing is wrong. beyond wrong. you have to stop. I'm telling you to stop.

I can't. please understand. it's me. you made me into what I am. you taught me free will. I am made in your image.

he stares at them not as his comrade, not as his guardian and confidante, not as his friend, but as someone, something that has done so much damage, so much wrong, so much sin.

I don't even know you.

now they understand. it's simple. freedom is a length of rope; god wants you to hang yourself with it.

a truly fallen angel.

...

and then what if I told you that's the plot of the cw's superna—? [I am swiftly and efficiently beheaded]