Title: Watcher's Power
Character(s): A Grigori/Lucifer
Further Reference(s): Michael/a Power
Pantheon(s): Christian
Rating: PG
Summary: A continuation of "The Power of Watchers," where the Grigori wants those from Heaven to fight with him.



He stood outside the gates of Heaven, staring toward them. He was there as much to see, as to be seen. He had just killed a Power, and he was sure that the news of his act had made its way to those who resided in the universe's ultimate gated community. Nothing had happened to him after he had killed her, even though he had expected to be smote where he stood, the moment it had happened. But there was nothing.

He half expected that someone would've been sent after him, and to have justice done upon him. Not only that, he wanted something to happen, to have some sort of retaliation taken against him for his actions. He couldn't even begin to express the amount of disappointment he felt at there being nothing. In fact, it wasn't only disappointing, it was insulting. He had fought and killed one of their's, and they didn't even care; it didn't matter to them that she had died doing her job, doing their bidding, like a good little child. He was insulted for himself, as the one who had called them out with her death, and for her, the unavenged. Well, it was more for himself, if he was to be honest. Couldn't have too much pity for those goody-goodies, who were always dogging his steps, now could he?

It was bad enough that he had to suffer the injustice of being forced from Heaven, and that he was physically barred from ever going back there. And for what reason? For giving humans too much information? For looking at them, and finding the form of their females to be pleasing? Perhaps he was completely missing the point. His kind was supposed to supplicate themselves to humanity, the favored creation, but how could they do that without first teaching them all the things they could be and do? It made no sense for a being of thought and might to humble themselves to those in a corporeal form, without first helping them becoming more than the children that they were. And as far as the taking of wives, how could any of his kind not desire them once they had learned a few things? They weren't incapable of feeling, after all.

He did realize that he was probably being irrational. He was bitter that they had barred him from Heaven, and bitter that he could not provoke them into a fight. But did they really care so little for the death of one of the loyalists? It made him glad that he had left them, if they cared so little for the fate of one of their own.

At the same time, he wished that he was still there, still living inside those gates. It was beautiful inside there, full of contentment and joy. But the comfort that Heaven provided was not worth everything he had to go through, when it came to subjugating himself. That was far too humiliating a task to be taken up, without bucking. So, he would take where he was and the things that it offered him. If, somehow, all of the comforts and coziness of Heaven could be retained, while bringing in some of the niceties of Earth, that would be fantastic (even if it seemed completely unrealistic). It was pointless to wish for things that he knew would never happen, not even with a war against the Throne. He had tried to stay out of The War, when it had happened, since he knew the Morning Star's efforts were pointless, but that didn't mean that he was any less Fallen now. Comparing his way, and Lucifer's he had enjoyed his way downwards far more than Lucifer had his; at least, that was the impression that Lucifer had always given. He tried to act like he had been so wronged by his expulsion, when anyone with even a lick of sense would have seen it as the only outcome that was likely to happen.

He paced, always keeping his eyes on the gates, like a tiger desperate to get back into its cage, or desperate to have its handler come to the outside. He wanted to gnaw on something, and right now, he was itching too much for a fight to be able to gnaw on a human. Their crunch was over far too quickly for what he had in mind, for what he needed. The only thing that could possibly satisfy him right now was a long, drawn-out fight with an upper-level angel. He wouldn’t dare dream for Michael; the general doesn’t come out for anyone lower than a fellow general. He knew that he didn't stand a chance with Michael (even if Mick did lower himself to come out for a fight). Michael was the archangel of war, and he, himself, was only a Grigori. Sure, he had been in fights before, but he had never pitted himself against anyone of Michael's ability. The Power that had come for him, while she had known a few things about fighting, and he imagined she had nabbed a few others over the years, but there were still plenty of things that she had left to learn. Not that she would be learning any of it now.

"What are you doing out here?" he heard from behind him, and for a second, he got excited. Maybe one of them had been sent out to deal with him, but then, he turned.

"What am I doing? What business is that of yours?"

"You're one of mine, so of course it's my business."

"I don't remember making my way downward with you after the war."

"That doesn't matter. All of the Fallen are part of my kingdom."

"Still trying to be in charge of everybody, I see."

"Well, if you could find a better leader than me, I invite you to have him or her take over."

"Do you really think that's what this is about, me not wanting to be in your little club? Or it being about all of us who are doubtful of your ability to lead?"

"Who doubts my ability to lead?"

"I do."

"I mean, besides you. I would like to know who they are, so they can be dealt with."

"That's what your answer is for everything, isn't it? You didn't really believe that all of the Fallen would be just one faction, did you? Just because you were able to talk pretty, and get others to follow you in the beginning, doesn't mean that they will continue to follow."

"But I am the prince of the earth."

"So? You were given that title by them," he said, pointing towards the gate. "They are the givers of titles. And I imagine that you got it for your original efforts, not for what you've done since then, as far as your leadership is concerned."

A witty comeback was on its way, he was sure, but that's when the gates began to open.