I Will Not Make Her Choose

I felt the beating of his wings before I saw him fully materialize, black and white pinioned, the chaos angel. Denenthorn gazed down at me and I could do nothing but look up to meet his gaze. I knew my eyes were rimmed with red, and my lip was still swollen and bleeding.

He looked at me for a long moment and then spoke, without turning, to Constantine. "I assume this is your handiwork,” he said calmly.

“We had... some negotiations…. ” Constantine replied with the slightest of shrugs.

Denenthorn crossed his arms and continued to stare at my wounds. "Aggressive negotiations, I see.... " He looked over at Constantine. "Ever a fool who must use his fists to negotiate.... "

Constantine’s tone was silky. “War is father of all, king of all,” he began. “Some it makes gods, some it makes men, some it makes slaves, some free.... ”

I didn’t take my eyes off Denenthorn. I was torn, wanting to flee to his side, but afraid of further retribution.

"I've walked this world for Six Thousand years,” Denenthorn said grimly. “Do me a favor, Constantine." His eyes shot venom at the angel before him. “Leave the riddles at the door and speak what you really mean to say.”

“War is a contest of wills, Denenthorn. One will must be subdued… in this case: hers.”

"Do you see this as a war?” Denenthorn gave Constantine a dark look. “How narrow minded you truly are.... This is no war... you are clearly angry because she does not see things your way and therefore you took out your aggression on her.... This is no means of war..." He gave him a deathly stare. “It's a means of cowardice."

Constantine was nonplussed. "Ah… that is because you believe the notion that there is a fair war. How can anything be fair, when there is a victor and a loser?"

Denenthorn rolled his eyes. "Life is not fair, I never said war was fair.... I said your act was an act of cowardice."

Constantine looked at Denenthorn blankly, "Why?"

"Because,” Denenthorn replied, “My moral and ethical sense tells me that it is wrong to hit a lady… especially one with such a deep beauty to her.... "

"Well,” Constantine nodded, “As they say... spare the rod…. "

“Unless I am mistaken,” Denenthorn growled, “She is not a child, nor is she your child.... "

I could feel the tension in the room as Denenthorn’s wings began to spread in the posture of battle. I watched him carefully, not daring to speak.

Constantine shrugged, “All a matter of perspective... anyhow... is there more to the lecture?”

"No,” Denenthorn shook his head, and turned toward me. “I came for another reason..." He sighed heavily. "I wanted to see if my Night Angel, my Lady Grace, is ready to come home.... "

I looked from Denenthorn to Constantine, and the Dark Librarian did not miss the questioning look in my eyes… the need to ask permission. As he saw the fear causing my hesitation, his hands moved to rest on the hilts of his blades, watching Constantine’s every movement.

Constantine laughed. “Ah, and now who is thinking of war? So narrow minded?”

"I’m not thinking of war,” Denenthorn snapped, “Just thinkin' how nice yer head would look on my desk for the insult you place on this life...."

I began to shake.

Denenthorn held out his hand to me. "Home... where you are loved, " he murmured. He faced Constantine. "Home because she may come back to see you… I will not make her choose… but I will keep her safe." I lifted my hand to Denenthorn’s and he pulled me gently to my feet.

Constantine arched a brow. “Do you love her here, beaten, before us?”

"I love her here,” Denenthorn said quietly, pulling me into his cloak. “I love her at home, I love her when she infuriates me, I love her unconditionally." He looked at the angel, "Of course you would know all about love now, wouldn't you.... "

"More than you can imagine,” Constantine agreed. “I just need to know your intentions are pure."

I lowered my eyes and stared at the floor, not a word escaping my lips.

"Purer than you could ever imagine... Sir, " the old Librarian grumbled, drawing me closer under his arm.

I leaned into Denenthorn. "Please... home..."

“Home,” he soothed, and then we were gone.