The emergency alerts were going out again – earthquakes, fires, volcanic eruptions, severe out-of-season hurricanes. The announcer said hospitals were filling up with patients afflicted with mysterious illnesses.

And it was just the third day of the apocalypse.

Casey was trying to sleep but was feeling too guilty to let herself drift off. It didn’t seem fair that, while the world around her was falling apart, she was in a stone mansion on a feather bed under the protection of the most powerful archangel in God’s army. But then she remembered she was carrying his child and that if things did not go as Gabriel planned, then her fate may ultimately be worse than anything anyone suffered outside the safe confines of her refuge.

She didn’t let herself think on her encounter with the Dark One himself. She’d been so stupid to leave the country house where she’d been staying; she’d been misled by demons who form-shifted into Gabriel and Philemon and she’d believed it when she thought she’d heard Gabriel say he would kill her after their child was born. The demon had played on her worst fears. She’d fled and Philemon had been killed. She’d be dead herself if Gabriel had not arrived just in time.

Gabriel had waited until they were settled into the new dwelling, a sprawling structure in the mountains. Where these mountains were she did not know, but they were larger than any she had ever seen. When Gabriel had laid her down on the bed, he had admonished her to be more careful.

“I will not punish you for fleeing this time,” he said. “You’ve been through enough. And besides, I am so grateful that you are safe that all I want to do is hold you, feel you against me..”

Casey was more than happy to be held and even happier when the holding turned to more. Each time Gabriel shunted aside the rules and made love to her, she felt special, adored and completely overwhelmed. His mission had been to impregnate and protect her until their child - who would grow to lead God’s army of Nephilim - was born. But he loved her.  He’d told her this and she believed him. And, when he pulled her to him with such irresistible authority, she was powerless to resist. He was huge, and strong. The muscles in his back, that covered his wings, rippled as he supported himself over her. His lean hips drove like pistons as his huge cock plumbed the depths of her, over and over and over. Casey cried out, her hands entwined in the bed sheets, her lean, tanned thighs wrapped around his waist. His kisses left a trail of electrical pulses down her neck. She yielded to him completely, never wanting it to end.

When it was finally over, he pulled her two him and shielded her with his wings. Casey lay in the curve of his body, feeling his pulsing member slowly soften and slip from her body. She ran her fingers across the feathers of the wings that tented them, marveling at their perfection. She felt happy, safe, cocooned and for a moment was able to forget the turmoil of the world outside.

But it was always there, and Gabriel was always watchful. He had retrieved Philemon’s body; angels lived forever unless they were killed and his friend’s life had ended brutally. Gabriel refused to give Casey details and she was not sure she wanted them. Now there were two new angels.

They were unlike Philemon, who was beautiful and serene. These angels were darker, larger and more menacing. Gabriel introduced them as Michael and Uriel. Uriel, the brighter of the two, nodded and offered a half smile. Michael only stared, his expression a mixture of curiosity and something else that made Casey nervous.

Casey sat up in bed and cast off the blankets. She walked to the window and looked out. All she could see were forests and mountains. But beyond them there was chaos, death, fear…

The radio was going off again, offering broadcasts in multiple languages, including English. A tsunami was heading across the pacific and there were strange lights and rumblings in the sky that scientists could not explain. Planes sent to investigate disappeared. Air flight was grounded globally.

“You should be resting.” Gabriel walked in and turned off the radio.

“I can’t,” she said. “I can’t help but feel that this is somehow all my fault. All this pain, all this….death.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said. “You’re not the one fighting.”

“No, but I sparked it,” she said.

“It was sparked millennia before you came into existence. Now back to bed.” Gabriel pulled the covers up over her and began to gently push her back.

“I don’t want to go back to bed,” she snapped. “I’m not tired, Gabriel. I’m anxious, and nervous, and sick of living like a prisoner. I can’t sleep. It’s as bad as it was before I met you.” She paused, remembering that innocent time, when her only problem was a bad case of insomnia. Back then she’d thought of lack of sleep and the impact it had on her job and school performance.

“Refusing me is not an option for you, Cassandra,” Gabriel said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “You should know that by now.” He reached for her arms and before she could even protest she was face down over his lamp. Casey whimpered in fear and began to plead as he raised the hem of her nightgown, even though she knew entreaties for mercy were of no use.

Gabriel began to spank her, the stinging slaps targeting the undercurve of her bottom becoming progressively more forceful until her whimpers turned to cries, and then full-blown sobs. He seemed to know just how hard to spank her, using just enough intensity to push her right over her limits. He caused her pain without being excessively cruel.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Casey cried, kicking her feet and writhing helplessly in the angel’s powerful grip, as his hand continued its assault on her helpless backside. She could fell the heat and pain growing exponentially. Her voice was hoarse from cries and she was physically and mentally exhausted by the time he was finished.

Gabriel gently pulled her up and into his lap.

“Sometimes I think you test me because you know you need this,” he said, dropping a comforting kiss on the top of her head.

Gabriel’s words made Casey angry, in part because he was right. She did need the release of tears and emotions only his discipline could bring. When he’d first spanked her she resented it, but now she accepted his authority. Was it a good thing for her to be so meek? She put the question to him.

“I’m not a child,” she said. “But I find it easy to be almost reduced to one in your control. I’m not sure that’s healthy, Gabriel.”

“I walked the earth before the first of your kind took his first steps on the virgin soil of Earth,” Gabriel said quietly. “I’m older than your mountains, your sky, your stars. In my eyes you are a child.”

She shifted uncomfortably in his lap and looked up at him. “But I’m carrying your child,” she said. “That should afford me more status than merely a charge. How can you be both my lover and my guardian?”

“We are many things to man. I can be more than one to you, Cassandra. You are an intelligent woman, but you are still a human. Your knowledge is limited, your perspective miniscule. You will make mistakes without guidance and you cannot afford to make mistakes. It is important that you obey me without question. I cannot deal with you as I would deal with one of my erring kind, or even as I would deal with a man. A child’s punishment, more forcefully applied, is a good remedy for a woman’s disobedience. It hurts, but just long enough to get the point across.”

He kissed her on the lips. “I have no desire to hurt you more than that.”

Gabriel stood, cradling her, and laid her gently back in the bed. Casey felt her eyes grow heavy, her limbs grow languid. She yawned and allowed herself to be tucked in. Outside the world was on fire, but at that moment she let herself shut the reality of global turmoil out and just bask in the presence of her angelic lover.

“Stay with me until I fall asleep?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“And one more thing?” Her tone was sheepish.

“What, little one?”

“The radio.” Casey shuddered. “I know bad things are happening. And it’s not that I want to be in denial. But do you think for a couple of days…”

“Of course.” Gabriel unplugged the radio, wrapped the cord around it and set it on the nightstand. “It shouldn’t have been in here…”

“No. I was glad to have it at first,” Casey quickly replied. “But it’s just so horrible.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed. His hand on her back was warm, comforting as he rubbed. The pain in her bottom and the steady rubbing of his hand felt strangely comforting together. He was her guide and protector and with him, at least, she was safe.

When Casey was asleep Gabriel rose, picked up the radio and walked from the room. For the moment he stood at the door, looking at the rise and fall of her ribcage. It was reassuring to Gabriel, to see the woman who carried his child resting comfortably. He wondered if she realized how important she was to mankind, to him. When he’d gone to her distant ancestor, Mary, he’d been his God’s top messenger. Mary had been so outwardly placid in her acceptance of his God’s will, but behind her eyes he’d seen doubt and anger. His God had never spoken to Mary directly; Gabriel was glad that the next child destined to save mankind was sired by him, an angel-messenger-turned warrior who would make his presence known to her. He wanted the mother of his child to know him.

He shut the door, thinking on all the other women who had fallen pregnant across the globe without realizing that their children had been sired by angels who’d form-shifted into the outer shells of their lovers and husbands, or posed as charming, seducing strangers. It had been his God’s command, and only Gabriel had challenged it when he found he was chosen to sire the human-angel hybrid, known as Nephilim, that would lead all these others in a final conflict against Satan.

Had he not been in his God’s favor for so long, Gabriel would have not survived the wrath that would have surely befallen him. But Gabriel, along with Michael, shared an elite, favored status. Gabriel had even been told by his God that he admired the bravery it took to speak up, and at his side Gabriel had felt Michael flinch. Michael was a fierce, terrible warrior - the strongest of their kind. And yet for all his strength he had not told his God what he had told Gabriel, which was that he hated the plan to breed an army of Nephilim.

“It cheapens our race,” Michael had fumed. “Why would you, Gabriel - an archangel - want to muddy your seed by breeding with God’s pets?”

“They are more than pets, Michael,” Gabriel said. “They are his chosen creation. For good or ill, our lot is to obey. If that means overseeing the Nephilim then so be it.”

When Michael had scoffed, Gabriel turned to him angrily. “You criticize me for taking a human to breed on God’s command. But tell me, Michael, would you have refused? You, who cannot even muster the courage to tell Jehovah you think his plan is wrong?”

This had earned Gabriel an angry glare from Michael, but Gabriel was just as angry. Michael was just as beloved by their God; he could have told Jehovah about his misgivings. He could have made all the arguments that he’d made to Gabriel.  That humans were too weak and flawed. That even an infusion of angel strain could not lift them up to the level of angelic warrior. That God should try harder to gain back the loyalty of the increasing number of angels that fled to fight for Lucifer, or to become fugitive elementals who refused to show loyalty to either side.

If Michael had just told their God, then perhaps he would have been assigned somewhere else. Gabriel did not like having the temperamental and brooding Michael in such close proximity to Casey. He still recalled the look in the huge warrior’s face when he’d walked in bearing the exhausted and barely conscious mother of his child.

“Philemon died for this?” he’d asked, his expression dark and harsh.

“Philemon died for the cause,” Gabriel had said, and had moved past Michael to take Casey up the stairs to the bed. He cursed his current circumstances as he did so. Philemon had been a close friend of Michael, who rarely got close to any other angel. The two spent many hours talking philosophy, or poring over the vast books in the teacher’s library. Philemon had an encyclopedic knowledge of war strategies; he could recite almost every maneuver of angelic battalions in any given conflict with demonic forces. The two of them would often pass time running various scenarios by one another.

Gabriel wondered if Philemon shared Michael’s disdain for the Nephilim plan. If he did, he did not show it. And was sure the teacher had known of Michael’s distaste, but like Gabriel he’d never said anything to their God. A level of loyalty existed, even among angels. Deep down, no one really liked the boss, even if they served him to the death with a loyalty unmatched by anything else in Jehovah’s creation. Their God was all-powerful, but also arrogant and harsh. There was a duality to Him; he’d sent his son to redeem humanity, and yet he seemed to look forward to the conflict that would cause so many pain and death.

“He’s bored,” Philemon had once said. “Bored and a bit petty, I’m afraid.”

“You could serve other gods,” Gabriel had said.

Philemon had shot him a distressed look. “You are fortunate that he can only listen to the hearts of men, Gabriel. Or that he trusts you enough not to eavesdrop. Favorite or not, he’d kill you for such blasphemous thoughts.”

But Gabriel wasn’t so sure that Philemon hadn’t had the same thoughts. Jehovah wasn’t the only god, hence the jealousy. But he was the most prominent and the idea of humans loving another drove him to distraction. All the angels knew their God could see his creation slipping away to follow others, and Gabriel suspected that there was more to the Nephilim plan than just a mere army. He suspected that the Nephilim - part loyal angel spirit and part human - would replace mankind as God’s chosen creation. The apocalypse would wipe out so many humans. Those who were left would fade naturally. And God would have a higher-minded following.

But Gabriel knew there were risks. The simple faith of humans kept so many of them bound to his God. Well, that and fear. The angels were so much smarter; it was already proven that they, too, could fall away. In fact, it was because they saw God through a prism of practicality rather than childlike faith that this was possible. Gabriel suspected that it was a matter of time before God would eventually lose his following, not because he did not love it, but because he tried too hard to force it to love Him in return.

And yet here he was, loyal in spite of what he knew. And he knew he was loyal for the same reason that Michael was loyal. This was all they knew, all they had ever known and they were in too deep to throw their lot in with another god, or to go off on their own. They were warriors, and warriors always followed their king into battle.

Gabriel was seized by a sudden need to check on Casey. He felt increasingly protective of her, and despite what Michael said, he found her beautiful and fascinating. Humans were so frail, so easily broken. He was moved by how hard she tried to comprehend, to obey. He could feel the force of her spirit when he held her but knew she was unaware of how much strength she actually possessed for a mortal.

Gabriel opened the door to the bedroom. She was still sleeping peacefully, her body curled into a self-protective c-shape. He loved how she slept curled up like that. He loved to hold her, to pull her against him. She was small and warm and smelled like sunshine. He could understand why the rogue angels were attracted to them when the first Nephilim were bred against God’s command.

It had been forbidden to couple with humans, but some of the angels had not been able to resist the small, soft creations just ripe for the picking. Angels were not within themselves sexual beings, but the primal nature of humans awakened something in them and they went into them. The results were what the Bible recounted as “giants in the land.” Those giants disappeared, whisked away by an angry God who at that time had enough angels in his command to dispense with those who displeased him. The breeding stopped, but the stories spread among the angels, and some began to resent being denied access to such pleasures, especially when their God allowed so many to die early or painful deaths on a whim.

At some point, Gabriel suspected, their God decided that he would have to trump his angelic hoards. He, too, would go into a woman, and that offspring would make the Nephilim a footnote in history. Mary was the chosen woman, and Christ the result. God’s son was, at least, kinder than his father. The angels liked him because he stayed out of politics.

But Jehovah’s thirst to outthink his creations, and those he obsessively worried would steal them, was all-encompassing. And now, having sired a son by a human woman Himself, God had decided that he would sanction a select group of his loyal angels to have their way with human woman. The chosen ones were gleeful; only Michael realized the gravity of this plan. Only he - one of the strongest of the angels - was weak enough to fall in love.

.