Author's Note:

This is a fanfiction based on the Sandman-spinnoff Lucifer, by Mike Carey. It tells a possible tale about Lucifer and Duma, set on the 7th and 8th day of Creation. Angels and love. Enjoy.

I have been thinking about the last paragraph, and I'm not quite ceratin it fits. Let me know if it works, or if I should remove it.

MaiaMadness

A Silent Wish

Duma, the angel of silence, looked down at his master's new world. The Garden was finished, and full of life. It was the seventh day, and God rested. And yet, as he looked, Duma knew that it would not last for long. God's greatest creation would be banished from their sanctuary and spend the rest of creation trying, and failing, to return to paradise. It was all a part of the great picture. Of God's ineffable plan. He knew this, and yet could not bear to think it. And so the angel wept.

He took to his wings, plunging downwards from the celestial citadel of the heavens. Above the Garden at the top of the world he soared, his silver-wings glowing in the sunlight. He saw the man and woman, shyly exploring their world, eating the fruits, playing with the animals, and Duma smiled, feeling relieved that they were still happy.

Making himself invisible to them, the angel of silence landed next to the great tree at the centre of the garden. The Tree of Wisdom, the one the Creator had told his children never to eat from. And Duma turned his eyes to the Serpent.

"Yes, it's a beautiful world, isn't it?" hissed the Serpent. Duma only nodded, and the Serpent sniggered. "A sad thing it is that it will not last," he said. "Why must it be so, you wonder? Duma, imagine them staying here for all time, never doubting, never questioning, never thinking. Living here, alone, the two of them, for eternity. God had a reason for placing this tree here. I'm only helping him along. I will make them think. Feel. Want. Wish. All living things must do this. Do not blame me, Duma, for what I cannot control. At least, when mankind becomes banished from sanctuary we'll have something to watch the next few million years." He smiled a Serpent's smile at his silent companion. "Oh, Duma, the things which we cannot control… Almost enough to make things interesting."

Duma acknowledged the remark with a jerk of his head and then took to his wings. Yet again a tear fell from his misted eyes as he reached the citadel once more. The Silver City of the angelic host. The home of God. Everything was already rebuilt, even though the great battle had been but a few days ago. Or perhaps it had been millions of years. The concept of time had not yet been invented then. God sent Lucifer, the Lightbringer, to light all the stars on the sky. And then a war had broken loose. Duma had watched from the sidelines; he was no warrior, he was no Seraphim. And then it had all been over, and the Morningstar was no longer in Heaven.

On the eighth day, Duma returned to the Garden, once more landing by the great tree. And there was the Serpent, smiling its Serpent's smile.

"The woman has been glancing this way all morning," it said. "My fruit intrigues her. Do you wish to taste my fruits, Duma? Of course not. You are of the Heavenly Host. You could not possibly disobey your Lord in such a way. Angels are perfect beings of pure Light. But you and I were once the same, Duma. We are equally as perfect. We were His beings. His children. Now we are being replaced, by beings with souls. We have no souls, Duma. What is a soul to an angel?

"God made a fatal mistake, my friend. He gave us free will, as he gave those two. You cannot force beings of free will to worship. Am I right, Duma?"

Duma, as was expected, said nothing. The Serpent's smile did not waver. And then it was gone, and Lucifer sat on a branch of the tree, sporting wings of fire and the same Serpent's smile.

"You have not seen my new realm, have you Duma?" he said. "Visit with me." He reached out his hand, and Duma hesitated. "The Creator will not know, nor will he care. Come with me, Duma. See my world."

And Duma took his hand, and they flew.

The plains of Hell were bare and deserted. The sky overhead was red of blood. "Don't let go of my hand," said Lucifer. "Come see my palace."

They walked across the plains, and as they walked strange creatures began to appear on all sides.

"The fallen," Lucifer explained. "The little ones are the fallen Cherubim. I have received a few Nightmares escaped from the Dreaming as well. And then there are the Lilim, the children of Lillith. I didn't have to corrupt her; she managed all on her own. Most of them are roaming the earth, but some have taken up residence here. This is Hell, Duma. It is in the future to be a place of torture. Here will come those dead who believe that is what happens when you die. I already arranged it with Death, she was most cooperative. There is only one way for things to happen, Duma, and if they don't, nothing ever will. Destiny walks a single path today. Look, there is my palace."

It was an extraordinary construction. The palace was built in red stone, tall and beautiful. Lucifer led the silent angel to the great iron gates. A stare from the Lightbringer opened them, and they entered the mighty hall. Lucifer's throne sat in the middle of the hall and Duma felt overwhelmed.

"It's not much yet, but soon my realm will be swarming with the damned."

Duma turned away. It was too much to hear. He would happily see Adam and Eve running around in the garden forever, like happy children, always curious, always interested, never sad. Never experiencing betrayal or hatred or war or loss or death. Lucifer's hand moved to caress his spine, and he shivered.

"I know how you feel, Duma," he whispered. "But this is the way it has to be. And it will be interesting."

Duma turned around as those arms encircled him lovingly. He allowed himself to gaze into those amber eyes, and as Lucifer pulled him close, Duma opened his mouth and whispered the only truth he knew. Lucifer smiled, and then the two celestial bodies – made from light, shaped by will – melted and became one.

Duma, the angel of silence, looked down upon the world his master had created. The man and woman sat huddled in skins from animals they had killed, outside the walls of Paradise. Ashamed and banished, they sat in silence. In the Garden, the Serpent slithered from the Tree of Wisdom. His work was done and he disappeared into a hole in the ground. Duma watched, silently, questioning nothing. But when night fell he wept for the fate of mankind, and for that of Lucifer Morningstar.