Who: Damon Salvatore & Samandriel What: An angel and a vampire talk about their respective transformations and debate theology. When: Friday 10/18, evening Where: Lux Rating: Medium for some talk about the things vampires do Status: Complete
There were few enough people whom Samandriel had met online and considered actually worth his time. Castiel had been one of them, but Samandriel was fairly certain that his brother would have found him with or without the net. The others were generally people he’d known in other capacities already and so he didn’t really count.
The vampire, though. He was interesting. Intellectual stimulation wasn’t a thing the young angel encountered much online, particularly in comments to anything. He had no idea what this stranger would look like, or if he would even actually come to Lux, but while he played, Samandriel kept an eye out regardless. It was pretty easy to rule out who wasn’t a vampire. Some of the patrons carried themselves like predators, but in their case it was entirely the wrong sort.
After a time, he stopped looking, closed his eyes and started feeling. It wasn’t just for the sake of giving his instrument the attention it deserved, bow singing across strings as though he’d been playing for centuries. Bare feet on the floor at his spot near the piano, Samandriel found himself focusing better on filtering out the things that weren’t important to him. The conversation the cougars across the room were having about the perkiness of men’s rears, for example, was not something that should matter in any world. He wondered as his song took on a more mature, almost edging on melancholy tone, if his mysterious stranger friend had become vampire enough for him to register as non-human to angelic senses yet. There was, of course, only one way to find out.
Damon had to admit, he was interested in this Angel. When he had joined the network, he had tried to deny that the dreams were anything more than dreams. It wasn’t possible for dreams to bleed into reality, to actually transform from them. Now he had to admit that he was possibly wrong, and it was both intriguing and disturbing in equal measure. The dreams came quickly, and seemed to last hours, showing him things as if he had lived them. They took on a life of their own, leaving him unsure of the ending.
The angel entered his life when he was questioning how these dreams would end, or perhaps where he would end in them. Here was another with nearly a full transformation, and knowledge that was unheard of on the outside. A confirmed agnostic, Damon was hardly a man of faith, and yet there was no other explanation for the manifestation of the dreams. This man - angel - might have insight, and quite honestly, he welcomed flexing his intellect with another that seemed to enjoy as well.
He entered Lux looking around. He wasn’t sure what the other looked like, but he was fairly certain that he would not have wings. He adjusted his jacket and walked to the bar. He ordered his bourbon and took a long drink. His eyes fell to the piano, head tipped to the side. Dark hair fell in blue eyes, locked on the keys. It was appropriate for an angel, wasn’t it? He smiled a little, knowing the man could be anywhere. He definitely didn’t have the abilities that his dream self had, at least not yet.
Samandriel felt the subtle timbre of not-quite human shift in the bar. Angels and Winchesters were one thing, but this vampire didn’t quite feel like the ones he was used to in his dreams. He opened his eyes to look at the source of that feeling to find something he both was and wasn’t expecting. That the man was beautiful shouldn’t have been surprising, but this vampire was very nearly breathtaking. Those cheekbones alone could quite possibly cut glass. He honestly hadn’t thought that people in real life actually looked like that.
Samandriel finished his sonata (no matter that it’d started out as someone else’s composition entirely,) and nodded his thanks to the pianist before tucking his violin under one arm and walking over to his guest. “Is this the part where I ought to say that I believe you were expecting me?” he asked, smiling up at him. It was really refreshing to be at nearly eye level with someone for a change. How he managed to get himself attached to so many very tall people was something that constantly baffled him.
The violin, he thought, shaking his head. He didn’t know why it made sense, but it did. Perhaps it was the strings. Damon held out a hand, meeting the other man’s eyes. “You must be the angel,” he said with a nod. “I’m Damon, the vampire-to-be.” It sounded strange coming from him still, although he had been aware of the dreams for a few months now. Still, his acceptance of the transformation was only beginning.
“How about a table?” he said, leading the way to one. The privacy was a bit better than at the bar. “In my normal life I teach high school history, Civil War Era. Oddly, in the dreams, I was actually there. What did you do before all of this?” It was crazy even thinking that they all had dream experiences. Even though the worlds and circumstances were different, they had all found this outlet on the network. He wasn’t entirely sure that was by chance anymore.
“Samandriel. A pleasure to meet you.” Shaking the vampire’s hand was no trouble at all, nor was returning that smile.
“Actually,” Samandriel said, reaching out to rest a gentle hand on Damon’s arm while they walked. “We’d have far more privacy upstairs and I can put my instrument away.” He nodded over to the stairs. “That and my brother who doesn’t yet realize he’s my brother keeps leering at me and I’m not in the mood to put him in his place tonight.” Balthazar meant well, in his way, but that didn’t mean that sometimes Samandriel didn’t consider making him temporarily forget huge swaths of information or develop a crippling fear of zippers.
“Sure,” Damon replied with a shrug, changing direction to follow the other man. “How is it that he doesn’t know he is your brother, unless you are referring to an angel of some sort?” He cocked an eyebrow, followed by a shrug, wondering which one was the man he referred to. “Lead on.” It was probably better he didn’t hit the bottle too heavily anyway. Elena wasn’t a huge fan of his drinking, and he had tried to cut down for her. In truth, that had happened naturally as he no longer had the need to combat the loneliness and boredom.
“Have you played long?” he asked, more out of the need for something other than silence. This whole issue of dreams, and changing was disturbing enough. It hung in the air like a thick cloud, waiting to make a statement of it’s own. “Did you grow up here?”
“To answer your first question first,” Samandriel said once they’d gotten up the stairs and the door to the downstairs was shut, “I was, and still am, a high school senior when all this started. Yes, Balthazar doesn’t yet know what he is or will be or...anything of that nature. I’ve been playing since I was three, and yes I grew up here, but I was aware of the Dreams as a thing that happened long before they happened to me.” He smiled at Damon and gestured to one of the long, low couches for him to have a seat if he pleased.
The angel sat on one himself and went through his quiet, methodical way of putting away his instrument. Wood and strings were as much a part of him as flesh and blood, and equally vital as any organ. “That’s what you wished to speak about wasn’t it? Unless you’d rather I relive AP US History. I could, of course, but my opinions on the matter now are far differently informed than they were then.”
Damon entered the room, sitting on the indicated sofa, just listening. At the end, he laughed softly. “Right. The dreams, angels, vampires.” He shook his head, strands of dark shifted around piercing blue. “I never believed in anything like this. I lost faith somewhere in high school, I think. There are just too many things that are not proven, or solidified enough for me to have blind faith in a higher power. Of course, labeling myself as agnostic made my father’s hair stand on end, but that is a different story.”
He watched the meticulous movements of the man. How could angels even exist? If they did - if they truly did - their knowledge would be impressive, perhaps that fact that couldn’t be refuted so easily. “Did you believe when you started having the dreams?”
Samandriel got up to get himself a glass of soda from the private bar before he returned. “I was raised without religion,” he said once he sat down. “Even now, I have a very firm belief in science, in evolution and particle physics and everything else that we have hard proof for or at least very solid theories. And one night, I went to sleep and I remembered the moment of Creation. It was the single most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He smiled, fond and peaceful while he remembered it. “Heaven is full of angels. Thousands upon thousands of us of all different ranks and skills and domains.” He met Damon’s almost too intense blue eyes. “How many do you think have actually been in the presence of God? Have seen His face?”
Damon looked surprised to hear that scientific side. That actually made it all the more interesting. His eyebrow arched. “You were a man of science before … God.” The word felt foreign on his tongue. He had attended church with his parents when he was young, but he hadn’t truly paid attention to it.
“I don’t really know. Do angels see his face? Do they have regular meetings? I always see a scene from the movie ‘City of Angels’ where they are looking down over the city from towers or haunting the library.” He offered a smile that looked handsome against his features. “I cannot even picture how it works. Not at all. I mean, there are so many stories of pearly gates, and angels waiting, and maybe a herald. Is there really even a soul?”
“Four,” Samandriel said, smiling, “is the answer. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael and Gabriel. And no, we don’t have regular meetings. We have our orders, and honestly, after Christ, Earth was declared a no-fly zone.” He frowned. “Well, Michael and Raphael said those were our Father’s orders, but I’m beginning to doubt that.” Shaking his head, Samandriel went back to Damon’s questions. “There is a soul. If there weren’t, would Heaven or Hell even need to exist?”
He leaned back on the couch across from Damon. “Do you have your fangs yet? May I see them?” Hey, he was allowed to be curious in turn.
“Well, since I didn’t really believe Heaven or Hell existed, I don’t know. I had reasoned that a soul was just part of the brain’s function. We know things are sad and we feel it, but that is because our brain tells us we should feel that way.” It wasn’t the best explanation, but the concept wasn’t the easiest. “Why is Earth a no-fly zone?” he asked, thinking on that question for a moment.
“The fangs gave me something else to think about. How is this even possible?” He forced himself to think of recent events, and surely his fangs stretched. He pulled back his lips, showing the razor sharp points. His lower jaw held two of them as well, although they didn’t stick up as far as the upper.
“Because those were our orders,” Samandriel repeated. “Earth was a no-fly zone. The first seal to signal the apocalypse was broken and our orders changed. Heaven is an especially dangerous place for an angel to go around questioning anything.” Or was, at the time. Castiel changed that in his way.
Those...those were very definitely fangs and not the sort he was used to seeing on vampires in his dreams. “They suit you,” he said, hoping that the other man would take it as the compliment it was meant to be. He didn’t imagine many people could actually seem to look more like themselves with supernaturally elongated teeth. “Though, since you showed me yours I suppose it is only fair.” The sound of wind and movement accompanied the unfolding of Samandriel’s wings as he brought them to the visible plane. He stretched them out as wide as he could, all pinks and oranges and purples like a sunrise.
Heaven being dangerous, wars, angels, they were all so remote, but yet there was a physical reality standing before him. He reached out almost as a reflex. “Can I - touch them?” he asked. His brain screamed that it wasn’t possible. It made a million arguments that were not quite as compelling as the wings in front of him.
“Now that is something you don’t see everyday,” he admitted, swallowing thickly. Those wings were amazing. He had nothing that explained their presence. It was oddly comforting. “I still don’t get the war issue. Angels are soldiers, not always the nicest either. I suppose pop-culture has a lot to do with misinformation.” He couldn’t take his eyes off the wings.
“What about me though? I’ll be a killer if I fully transform.” He had seen himself in the dreams, and he had definitely earned a one way trip downward.
In response, Samandriel got up and knelt, bringing one large wing around so that Damon could touch it. Somehow he trusted this man to be careful with them without having been told. Perhaps being able to demonstrate kindness without being explicitly told to be so might help him see his future as less monstrous? Though on those lines. He thought about that for a long, long moment.
“There are very, very few things that can kill an angel. Four total that I’m aware of and as you’re neither an archangel or God…” He lifted his head to look up at Damon. “I don’t mean to sound patronizing at all, but the amount of damage a vampire could do to someone like me is fairly negligible. So...if you need a food source and are physically incapable of really hurting me, I wouldn’t mind offering up my blood.” It was a rather big offer for a man he barely knew, but Samandriel felt confident in making it. He was, at heart, Good, and he thought Damon was too, or at least wanted to be.
Damon took in the wings, running a hand over the edges. They were soft, but not delicate. They were also not costume, or purely cosmetic, formed by a great designer. They were flesh and bone. They had veins, and life moving through them, giving them power. He was a bit awestruck, which never happened. “Now that is - ,” and the words left as abruptly. There really wasn’t a good description.
It took him a minute to register what the angel was saying. His eyes shifted from the wings to the face. “Do you mean that you would offer me blood, should the need arise?” His brow arched as he considered. Damon could be a lot of things. Surely, he could be an asshole. That was absolutely true, and he could hurt people with verbal barbs as sharp as knives. He was not a killer. He didn’t see how he could live the way he did in dreams, without the regard for human life. “If that time comes, I’d do it.” He realized that he felt incredibly humble. He wasn’t used to to that either.
Samandriel always enjoyed contact on his wings. It was one of the faster ways to get him to calm down when he was nervous. He stayed quiet for a while, looking up only when he realized he was expected to answer the question. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, yes.” He smiled at the elder (and yet somehow still younger, this whole being an angel and a teenager thing was an annoying dichotomy,) man, stretched his wings again and tucked them back out of the visible spectrum.
“Would you like another drink, Damon? You look a little…” Samandriel wasn’t sure he had the words to describe what he was seeing on the other man’s face. He made a vague gesture and hoped that Damon understood that he seemed to have lost a good deal of his cocky charm somewhere between the feathers of Samandriel’s wings.
Damon watched the wings retract. His face shifted as he walked around the man, who gave no further sign of ever having them. “Where did they go?” he asked, trying to grasp the fact that they were indeed there, majestic in every right. He stepped back, hand sweeping through velvet dark hair. He was righting himself without thinking about.
“Drinks are in order,” he agreed easily. “I’ll take anything. I really didn’t think angels were supposed to partake in such activities.” The smirk came back all on it’s own, and it felt better, like a part of him had been sadly missing. “I suppose I look pale, but it must be the lighting in this room, not a result of a belief system in question.”
Samandriel walked over to the bar, “The wings exist on a completely different plane to most physical things. There are beings who can see them no matter whether I will them to be visible or not.” Frankly, he was thankful for it. The last thing Samandriel needed was for his life to be a hundred times more complicated because everyone could see his wings. He was pretty sure that would end with him being hunted down and studied, and it wasn’t at all on his list of things to do.
But in response to that smirk and the cocky little tone of voice, he looked over from where he was pouring drinks. “You’d be surprised what angels are willing to do once they develop a taste for hedonism. We can drink and fuck and fight with the best of them. Breaking and entering and petty larceny are currently my favourites, but sometimes you just want to hang out in a fancy hotel in Venice just because you can.” He returned and offered Damon a drink, and something actually alcoholic for himself though he knew it wasn’t going to do much of anything. “Angel’s Envy,” he said. Damon seemed to still be in a bourbon mood and the name on the bottle was one that made him laugh just a little.
Damon was still processing this other plane and where those wings actually went, but he managed to keep that smirk across his lips. He reclaimed his position on the sofa. “They would get in the way,” he grinned. His mind was blown, but he was going to take back his humor. He laughed, accepting the drink. “Do you mean those human activities are actually fun. I mean, I do know they are. I have realized that in the dreams. Vampires are immortal, or mostly immortal. It gives us a different outlook on life. It just isn’t worth as much, mostly from the survivalist perspective, but also because we are already dead, technically.” He took a drink, swirling the ice in his glass. “We have several lifetimes, so we’ve got time to do it all. I might have to leave the larceny alone and just go for the big stuff.”
“Not entirely fond of fighting, and it takes rather a lot of alcohol for me to feel anything, but the fucking, definitely.” Samandriel flopped on the couch opposite Damon like he didn’t have wings at all. “That worries me,” he said finally. “I’m, not sure how to manage infinite lifetimes. I mean, in a way I’ve been doing it for eons in the dreams, but what about here? Will I age at all or am I just going to look like this for eternity?” And then the further question of whether this was even his body or if this was a vessel and he wasn’t actually alone in it. He didn’t know how to go about finding that out. Perhaps Castiel would know, but somehow Samandriel doubted it the other angel had even taken into consideration that there had been an original occupant to his vessel after it was his permanently.
Angel ethics were hard. Vodka Cranberry was much easier. He took another swig of his drink, considering mostly in the direction of his violin case and not at Damon, brows forming a neat little V while he did so.
“Good question,” Damon grinned. “You sound like a vampire really. Without the wings, that would be my guess. The thought of an angel fucking though - you are blowing my entire image of Heaven.”
He oddly understood this issue with immortality. Even if he wasn’t fully transformed, he already had the questions. “In the dreams, I died at 23. I was shot by my own father. My girlfriend, who was also fucking my brother, had me drink from her. Hey, I knew and I was up for a little feeding, even as a human. Now, I’m 140 and I don’t have a single ache or pain in my body except when someone stakes me.” He grinned at the man - kid - he wasn’t even sure. He kept coming back to angel. “You don’t always die from stakes, but they hurt like a bitch. I don’t know though. Immortality is a lifetime to see all the things you always wanted to, do all the things you want. I don’t think I’m bored yet, and I’m not aging.”
“Given that I’m pretty sure your image of Heaven is in line with the commonly held belief of chubby blonde cherubs in strategically placed bits of flowing fabric playing harps and bouncing on clouds, I don’t think it’d be hard to blow it,” Samandriel said, winking at his new friend.
He thought about it for a moment, leaning back on the couch. “I’m not sure if I should ask if you knew your girlfriend was fucking your brother. I’m definitely not in a place to judge that given how complicated my own relationship is, but for some reason it seems important.” Samandriel shook his head. “A century and a half is one thing, but it’s a little different for me. I remember the whole of human history and the eons of life starting up before it. The Earth herself all molten and then cooling, the beginning of aquatic and then amphibious life. Helping to make some of it, though nothing too grand. All of Australia you can blame on Gabriel, by the way, if you ever meet him...and probably after he starts remembering.” The young angel cleared his throat. “At any rate, I have all of that in me from start to fairly recently and I wake up every morning to the duality of being eternally old and...in high school.” He took a swig of his drink again, looking down at his violin case. “That’s not to diminish your perspective at all, of course, just to offer up a different one.”
Damon shook his head, tipping it back. “I think that is everyone’s definition of angels and heaven. They have the huge cheeks and are always smiling, not at war - definitely not. You go to heaven and get everything you ever dreamed. I find it ridiculous.” It was too, just the vision of it. How would people actually think that was amazing to him.
He raised an eyebrow, trying to sort out the dreams. they were complicated at best, although he had seen quite a bit of the old history, enough to have the answers. “Yes, I knew. I was angry, but I was so stupidly in love - in the dreams,” he raised a finger to make that point. In his life, he only had a brief fling with Katherine, and he had been drunk. “I just wanted her, wanted her to choose me, and it was Stefan who told our father when he was trying to protect her from the vampire roundup. She was taken and our father shot us both for trying to help her and we woke as vampires.” He and Stefan had separated then, brothers at war. Stefan was the good brother, Damon, the bad seed. At being old and in high school, he laughed again. “Stefan did that over and over in the dreams. He kept going back. That’s where he found Elena.”
The rest made him turn, watching the angel intently. “That’s where I get stuck, creation versus evolution. I mean, all the stories of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden just do not go with evolution and the evidence that man came from monkeys in the various states from Neanderthal man and up. Then there are the dinosaurs. I have never read about dinosaurs in any Biblical verse. It’s not of much help to an agnostic, that is for sure.”
“The Bible is neither a complete complete nor accurate account and hasn’t been for some time if it ever was.” Samandriel gave up trying to figure out the ins and outs of whatever complex relationship Damon, his brother and this woman had. Women? He wasn’t sure. Whatever it was simply needed to be filed under none of his business. Not his relationship. Not his problem.
“Don’t step on that fish, Castiel,” he said softly to himself. “Big plans for that fish.” He didn’t even remember who had said it to his brother, and he supposed that like Damon’s sex life, it didn’t particularly matter to Samandriel himself.
“I don’t know why anyone would choose to stick themselves in an endless high school loop. Sure, after a while, you’d probably get really good at navigating the politics no matter where you were, but that doesn’t make it an experience I’d ever care to repeat.”
“Tell that to all the Christians who live by the book. I’m not really insulting them, but it occurred to me some years ago that it could just be a book. People have organized religion, and even holy wars surrounding a book. It’s crazy. This is a part of the whole complicated message of peace on Earth when there are people strapping bombs to their chest and blowing themselves up in God’s name.” Damon shrugged and settled back. There were many factors in his array of doubt when it came to the bible, God and notions of Heaven. The fact that angels existed had made more headway than anyone or anything in a long time.
“High school, at least in dreams, is Stefan’s way to get back in touch with the human world. He has blood issues, which is like an addiction for him. When he comes back to his human side, he goes back to school.” That sounded ridiculous, but it seemed to be true from what he had seen.
“What about the fish?” He hadn’t met Castiel either, if that was a person - another angel maybe.
“Hm? Oh. My...celestial brother, I suppose you could say. Brothers in arms more than anything else. I don’t believe we share any genetic material. That would be odd, wouldn’t it. Given that we’ve got two completely different sets of parents and to my knowledge no common ancestry for the past century or so. Perhaps I ought to look into that. It’d be an interesting experiment at the very least.” Samandriel shook his head to clear his scientific distraction from it.
“It was a very long time ago, and I don’t quite know who said it anymore. Michael perhaps. One of the archangels definitely. It could have been Lucifer. You’d have to ask Castiel. Anyway, the first of the aquatic creatures were just coming onto land and evolving lungs in addition to their gill systems. So, don’t step on that fish, Castiel. Big plans for that fish.”
Samandriel smiled, shrugging casually. “Do you have blood issues as well? I confess, I don’t know how it works entirely with you. The vampires in my dreams look very different. Lots of pointy teeth like an anglerfish, but not nearly as many or as long as Leviathan.” The young angel shuddered. That was a creature he was completely okay with staying firmly locked away in his dreams and not encountering in his reality.
“Do angels even have parents?” He oddly didn’t think they could. They were created by that higher power that he hadn’t given much thought to since high school. “How does that work anyway? You obviously have parents as a human, at least before the wings sprouted out of your back. This does kind of change things.”
“I can’t even imagine going through creation. So people did evolve naturally from the fish over thousands of years.” He still wasn’t sure he believed it entirely, but he could lend some weight to the argument. That wasn’t going to make him run to church, which was another matter entirely.
Damon laughed lightly at the questions of blood, and looks. “Vampires look a lot like humans in the dreams. We sure don’t pick the ugly ones. Our skin gets paler, and our teeth stay like this. It is pretty hot.” He did have a little ego. He had seen himself in the mirror often enough, and had heard from his own girlfriend. “I don’t have blood issues. I’m just an asshole. I drink, I’ve killed, and I’ve done it without much consideration. I’m not surprised where I will end up, even if I haven’t done any of it in this life. Oddly, I didn’t want to be a dream vampire either.”
“Ah, that. There was a series of unfortunate events and my parents have disowned me. I live with my boyfriend now. I’m still not entirely sure on the details as I wasn’t technically around for it, but I’m hardly complaining. As far as parents go, they weren’t really suited for the job.” His parents were his parents and Samandriel had largely raised himself when their housekeeper wasn’t around.
He arched a brow at Damon’s assessment of himself. “Ego much?” he teased. “Don’t get me wrong, I can see the appeal, but the fangs aren’t really doing it for me.”
“Your parents should join mine for drinks. They don’t know anything about this vampire thing, at least not here. My father is not really my biggest fan, and I’ve stopped giving a fuck,” Damon said bluntly. “My brother is the golden son, not that he truly deserves that either. I don’t resent it. It just is what it is.” He hated that saying, but it was appropriate in this case. He had a better relationship with his mother, but she deferred to Papa Salvatore on all things, and Damon had his own life. They barely spoke other than holidays.
He shrugged and took a drink. His ego was fairly well known. It was both a defense mechanism, and a reality. More than one woman had fallen for his charms, but there was only one that had a very tight lock on him. “My girlfriend doesn’t mind the fangs so much, which is good because they come out in bed too.” He laughed a little bit, blue eyes coming back to the angel. “How is the boyfriend doing with the wings?”
Samandriel wasn’t in the mood to discuss the disaster that was his relationship with his parents and so focused more on the seeming taboo turn of their conversation. “He has no complaints about them, enjoys their beauty and...sensitivity, but he’s far more interested in my increased capacity to be made to wait if he so chooses.” Samandriel shrugged. “Wings are wings. He’ll have his own eventually, I imagine.”
The younger angel debated briefly informing Damon that it wasn’t just Lucifer who enjoyed his wings, but decided that they hardly knew each other well enough yet to properly have a conversation comparing the depths of their relative sexual depravity. If the consensual taking and giving pleasure could really be considered depraved in the first place, of course.
“Made to wait for what? Sex?” Damon asked, turning blue eyes to the man. “I don’t know about the wings though. If Elena sprouted wings, that would make it interesting. I see her going the way of the fangs though, unless she manages to stay human. I take it that yours is the one you were talking about earlier who doesn’t know what he is yet?”
Since high school, Damon had a wide array of women at his beck and call. They weren’t always good choices, but he definitely enjoyed himself as a confirmed bachelor. As that, there wasn’t much by way of pleasure that he would find depraved. It was actually his fling with Sage that had opened him up to more than a few things. He finished his drink, holding his glass up. “I think we broke a few of those 7 deadlies with those fangs. Not killing, just the fun stuff.”
“Hm? No, Lucifer knows what he is or will be rather. The one downstairs who doesn’t know yet is Balthazar, which is well and good for me as he and I didn’t exactly play nice in Heaven.” They were on the same side, fortunately, but that didn’t mean that their methods were similar at all. “But yes, made to wait for sex or...release in general. He also enjoys watching, which wasn’t something I expected. It makes things interesting when it happens to be the four of us since Lucifer can see mine and Castiel’s wings and Dean, unless something drastic happens, will never be able to.” Samandriel frowned, thinking about what it might take to make it so Dean could see at least Castiel’s wings.
“No, that would be a very bad thing indeed.” The only means of that happening that Samandriel could come up with very much involved Michael and the Apocalypse...again. He looked curiously at Damon. “What’s it like? Having fangs and...using them sexually?” he finally decided on. He couldn’t rightly imagine it, but then Damon seemed much more refined than the vampires in his dreams.
“Lucifer, as in Lucifer?” Damon’s eyes raised. Now didn’t that make life interesting for them. He knew the name and basic Biblical history even though he stopped going to church long ago, but then again Samandriel had called the Bible inaccurate. “Why can I see the wings and not this guy, Dean?” He remembered a Dean somewhere on the network. He was a drinker, or something possibly.
The thought of angels and sex made him smile. Did they really have sex or were they capable. Of course, the same thing could be said for vampires. They did have sex, even if some of the books described them as a bit asexual. He didn’t exactly believe Anne Rice’s versions anyway. “The teeth make it interesting, but they are like nails in my back. They are sharp, but grazing down skin just right, just leaving the lightest trace. Yes, that works for me, and Elena doesn’t complain. I haven’t tried the whole drinking thing yet.” Samandriel had offered and he was likely the first candidate when the transformation was complete.
“Lucifer as in Lucifer, yes.” Consorting with a fallen angel, particularly the first of the fallen was clearly something Samandriel was not at all worried about. Lucifer was his and he loved him and he had absolutely no intention of watching him get thrown into the pit again. Not only that, but Lucifer was complicated. Samandriel wasn’t even sure that their dreams came from the same world, but that was a subtle bit of distinction between Grace that he wasn’t particularly in the mood to get into even with Lucifer himself.
“Dean doesn’t possess the capacity to,” Samandriel tried to explain. “You can likely see them because you’re at least partly non-human at this point, or at least going to be. It’s a theme I’ve noticed. A handful of human beings possess the ability to see our wings, but nearly anyone with the slightest bit of something else can. There are maybe three or four people downstairs who can perceive them, and two of them will eventually be angels themselves. Given who Dean is in our shared dream world, you’d think he would be able to see them, but even there that’s not the case.” There was a soft shrug to go with that and Samandriel shifted the way he was sitting to lounge properly.
The angel chewed on his lower lip, realizing only belatedly that he’d stretched his wings out behind him while he thought on the question of fangs on skin. “I can see how that would have a certain appeal. Then again, personally, I’m not sure I’d be able to feel much other than pressure from something that light.” Not that he was sleeping Damon or any vampire, but a lot of what he could handle in bed seemed to be called into question lately. “Of course pressure has its appeal as well.”
“There are a few of us who will be a part of the supernatural world, so to speak, if the dreams are even true. Like I said, I didn’t even believe them until I actually got fangs. I still - ,” he stopped mid-thought, “I grew up pretty normal. There was no signs of becoming a vampire. They were just in books and movies. Has this always happened here? If this exists, we can’t be the first to go through transformations.” He shook his head. He had been a grounded realist most of his adult life. The concepts were completely contrary to most of his beliefs.
“I have had the urge to bite, which is weird because I really don’t want blood.” He had resisted for that reason. “I would say that in my dreams, vampire sex is a bit more intense than it is for a human. We do have that strength and speed.” His smile grew at the thought of bringing those dreams into reality. “There isn’t anything wrong with pressure in the right places. I still thought angels were supposed to be holy creatures though.”
Samandriel rose a challenging brow. “And sex is one of the most sacred acts someone can engage in,” he pointed out. “Are you under the impression that I’m walking around with a ken-doll crotch and no desire for the more carnal parts of intimacy?” The young angel smirked deviously.
Damon arched a brow, reaching for the bottle to pour another drink. “Hey, the Ken doll was supposed to be the ultimate male, or at least in Barbie terms. Heaven doesn’t seem to be the place for such carnal knowledge. Now vampires,” he continued, taking a drink, “we are badasses. We can fuck like a badass, and keep going.”
“Damon, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were issuing a challenge,” Samandriel said, getting up to refill his drink as well. “Or making an offer.” He leaned against the bar, just watching for a long moment. “But really in certain circles, the fight is the foreplay.” Not that Samandriel minded any of those thoughts at all. It almost made him wish that he could engage with Lucifer like that or that Castiel would actually fight with him if he asked.
“If I’d known that we were in competition for relative badassery, I would’ve prepared a proper presentation.”
“I don’t have all my talents yet. I just have teeth. When my heart stops beating, I will let you know. Then it’s game on!” He had always thought that would be the final part of his transformation. He would wake up a vampire. “I do think that is a part of it. Vampires seem to fight as hard as they fuck, both are a turn on. I don’t care what the werewolves do. I know there are a few of those around.” He took another drink, considering. “As for offers,” his head tilted, “we’ll see when the transformation is complete. I’ve always believed in never saying never.”
That response was both unexpected and somehow not a surprise. He made a mental note to pre-emptively ask Lucifer for permission should the situation arise. There was a sort of cockiness and authority in Damon that Samandriel found himself responding to. It was along the same lines of Lucifer’s general energy, though slightly louder and that was where the similarities ended.
“So long as you remember that not everything that yields is weak.” It was a simple statement, but it covered oh so much. Now that he was actively thinking about it, fangs and fighting were doing it for him in the same way as wings and obedience. This wasn’t healthy. Samandriel knew he ought to be thinking about other things, but it was challenging. “When it’s complete, I’ll make sure that I fly us some place with enough room for both of us to not feel confined by the terrain or population.”
From what Damon knew of vampires, and himself as a vampire, they were hedonistic creatures, and he had lived as that, especially during the 60’s and 70’s. In his dreams, he was a more liberal version of himself now, not that he was completely morally upright. Elena had also come a long way, and both liked to experiment with different things.
Damon considered the statement for a moment. “No, not necessarily. Pleasure can be the exception and it’s not necessarily defeat. War is the same way. Sometimes it is necessary to yield in order to win.” History had taught him that time and again, but they weren’t talking about history. He glanced at the wings again, or where they were supposed to be. They should be able to fly, and while he did have amazing speed, he imagined the wings could carry them farther, faster. His blue eyes locked on the angels. “Deal,” he said.
“Good,” Samandriel said, smirking deviously. “Now, if you’ll pardon me, I should get back to work. But we should do this again sometime.” Not that it hadn’t already been implied that they would, of course. Damon was an interesting sort, and Samandriel was more than glad to surround himself with as many interesting people as possible.
“That we should,” he grinned, finishing his drink. He set the glass on the table and stood, stretching out. A year ago, this would have been different, but now here he stood, preparing for a transformation to an undead monster, having an interesting conversation with an angel. If anyone had told him that story, he would wonder what they were drinking. “I’ll stop in again.” he put a hand on the man’s shoulder, before heading for the door.