Name: Dream Dangerously
Title: Death by any other name...
Disclaimer: Azazeal, Raphael and Thelma are property of Hex, Sky One and Shine Entertainment. Sariel as he appears in this story is an original character based on established Enochian and Hebrew mythology.
Character focus: Sariel (a nephilim)
Rating: U
Summary: A first person story based on Sariel's musings on why he wants redemption.
Context: This story is fundamentally linked to Sariel as he appears in the story Changes (see Cassie section.) Changes was an alternate post series 1 fic and Sariel plays a pivotal role in the story. I highly recommend you read Changes first. This story is set just prior to events in Changes.
Keywords: Mythology, drama,

I have many names, Zerachiel, Saraquel, Asardel, God's Command, but these days I prefer Sariel. At the very least it sounds exotic. The women like it.

Women. Yes, they were always the problem weren't they. Our weakness so to speak and what do you know, we've spent millennia making up for our…little slip. I do intend to make up for it though. In fact intend to get back to my rightful place as soon as possible.

You have to understand, it's never sat well with me, being an infernal outcast. Some of us took to it like a duck to water, Azazeal, for example, lording it over us and over those poor women. He never quite got away with lording it over me, but then I've never been much of a follower.

Did he really think that Sariel, who carried Moses' soul to heaven, who charted the course of the moon, who guided the dead to their resting place, would really play second fiddle to an ex-angel with a penchant for eyeliner? I think not.

I'm very good at waiting. With the dead patience is a virtue. Some of them are reluctant to accept it. Take Thelma for example. Oh yes, I've been watching Thelma for a long time. I like her spirit and oh how she loves. She loves until it hurts while that silly girl is dazzled by Azazeal's dark and dangerous routine. Thelma doesn't know it yet, but I need her. In fact, my salvation depends on it.

The dead these days are so persistent in their refusal to be dead. I know when they won't leave; I can sense them, unnatural in their surroundings. They feel wrong in my mind, like a loose tooth in your mouth. They move around but they're disconnected. They tell each other that it's unfinished business. It's mostly stubbornness or blind refusal to accept their life as they knew it is over. I have to say, I know the feeling.

They were always the hardest cases when I came for them. Watching them break their hearts over humans they couldn't have, refusing to accept their death, wondering aimlessly through the places they'd been when they were alive, and trying to emulate life. Sometime it took weeks to coax them away.

If they only knew what was waiting for them, they wouldn't be so keen to stay in this disgusting world, swilling in pain and the evil that they do to each other. If they'd seen the glory of heaven.

I'm jealous of the dead. Can you believe it?

Of course now they have no-one to guide them. Sometimes they get stuck for decades, centuries even. There's nothing I can do.

So here we are, waiting for Raphael the messenger boy. It sickens me, watching him gloat, flaunting his wings at me, but it's a necessary annoyance. Throw a bone to the little yapping dog so that he'll let me talk to Him.

I'm tired and I'm ready to go home. I want my little slice of heaven back. I want to fly. I need my absolution.

I have a plan. I'm Sariel, I always have a plan. I'm going to destroy Azazeal.