WRATH: A Hannigram Fanfiction

17- La Lumière du Ciel

     Hannibal checked Will's pulse and found that it was surprisingly strong. His skin was still warm, and his breathing was regular, which led Hannibal to believe that the blood loss wasn't the only reason for the faint. It was the catalyst, sure, but the lack of food and water and the shock from being healed was likely the bulk of it. Will would be fine while he carried out his plan.
     He wasn't certain that Will would ask him to kill Elliot, but he knew it was a possibility. Hannibal was always prepared for everything, including this scenario, and that's why it was so much worse when he'd frozen in terror at the sight of Will being hurt. He never froze. Never. What was wrong with him? He hated how much he lost his composure around Will, his well-crafted human personality slipping as the real, emotional side of him came raging out.
     The only thing he could do now was carry out Will's wishes. He'd come up with a plan for how to kill Elliot, if that was the situation called for, and now he knew exactly how he was going to follow through. A plan was always nice.
     He finally let the world resume its normal pace, and with heavy concentration he let his body sink. He felt himself floating, lighter than air, and when he opened his eyes he was back in his real body. So pure, so perfect. He slowly approached Elliot, who hadn't yet resurfaced, and kneeled down on the ground next to him. He took a quick inventory of the barn: rafters weren't too high, perhaps even a distance he could fly. It depended on how light Elliot was. Thick spools of rope hung on a hook from the back wall. Perfect. He could kill Elliot however he wished; a weapon was unnecessary, but it would only make things better if he found one. Things seemed to be matching up nicely.
     As he was surveying the building, he heard a sharp gasp from his right. He swiveled to see Elliot cowering on the ground, shocked and confused, his lids still heavy from just having woken. His bloodshot eyes went round and spilled over with tears.
     "Elliot." Lucifer whispered his name, to which Elliot finally snapped out of his terror. He scrambled forward on his hands and knees and leaned forward, his head bowed.
     "Oh my God. Please don't hurt me. Please," he cried. "What are you?"
     "Don't be afraid. I'm here to give you what you've been praying for. What you've been waiting for, correct? To evolve?"
     He nodded quickly. "I've been waiting for so long..I dream of it every night."
     "Yes. And you've waited so patiently." He smiled softly at Elliot, who brightened. "You may finally have it now. Would you like that?"
     "Oh, yes! Please! I'll do anything." Elliot began to sob. "Have I done the right thing?"
     Lucifer opened his arms. "Come to me."
     He did, throwing himself into Lucifer's hold. Lucifer rubbed his back in small circles, calming him. "You have done such a lovely thing. You saved those people's souls. You are a miracle on this earth."
     "I really did?" Genuine hope in his voice. "I helped them?"
     "Yes, Elliot. And I am so proud of you."
     Those words were what solidified Ellior's devotion. He choked out another sob, and Lucifer held him against his chest. From this angle, seeing only dark hair and a quivering body, he could pretend that this was Will in his arms. Will was crying into his shoulder, begging him to be saved and loving him more than anything else. Lucifer closed his eyes and kissed the top of Elliot's head before letting the fantasy dissolve.
     Elliot's tears weren't holy. They were human: dirty and flawed and ignorant. Still, there was a hint of purity in Elliot, something untouched, a desire to truly help the people that he murdered. He saw their sins, and in his mind, he saved them. Lucifer decided that he was going to give Elliot the death he'd always wanted, gentle and quick. He would give Elliot divinity.
     But not without pain. That's what he would get for harming Will.
     "Show me how," Lucifer asked. "Show me how you made your Angels, and I'll follow you."
     Elliot stumbled to his feet.
     Lucifer followed him and watched him dig behind a barrel of hay. He pulled out a black trash bag, dumping out a large array of surgical and mechanical tools. A fire ignited inside of Lucifer.
     Perfect. Oh, so perfect.
     He reached for the largest of the blades.
     "I strangled them first." Elliot's voice shook as he spoke. He was either afraid or excited-- Lucifer was too busy staring at the metal to see his facial expression.
     Strangling would be the merciful way to go. The poor man had been through enough.
     He hurt the love of my life.
     No one was going to hurt Will and receive mercy.
     Lucifer plastered a caring look back on his face. "Oh, poor soul," he said. "I'm afraid your experience has to be slightly different."
     "What?" His brow knitted in fear.
     "You are a Messiah." Lucifer took Elliot's chin in his hands. "You have the burden of being a savior in this world. You are like Christ, don't you see? You must make the sacrifice for the rest of this sinful world. The pain will be a crucial part of the process."
     "I'll be..awake?"
     "Yes. It won't be for long. Don't you want to feel your transformation?" He gazed deeply into Elliot's horrified eyes. "You are willing, aren't you?"
     Elliot nodded, visibly shaking. "Yes."
Poor, foolish thing. Christ wasn't real. He never had been. Humans were just desperate to believe that they hadn't been abandoned.
     Lucifer had him lay near the pool of Will's blood, so his would cover up any evidence. He waited for Elliot to take off his shirt and lie on his stomach, and then he ran his hand down Elliot's pale back. He could see the spine protruding from the sickly back. He lightly traced a line down the middle with the blade, not even nicking the skin.
     "Are you ready?"
     "Please. Yes."
     Lucifer began to cut. First a straight line from cervical to lumbar, followed by large upward curves to create the signature flaps of skin. He worked delicately, as he had with his patients during his few lives as a surgeon. Just deep enough to puncture the dermis; any farther than that and you reach disgusting fat that is not worth the effort to deal with. The dermis had much smaller blood vessels, as well, which made things less messy. The subcutaneous tissue could be left behind on the back rather than be pulled up with the wings.
     Elliot's whimpers of pain made him smile. Blood dribbled from each slice and onto the ground. Now came the messy part.
     He took hold of one of the flaps and pulled, separating skin from muscle and tissue. Lucifer was reminded of pulling sap-covered bark from a tree, with strings of material lingering as they resisted the motion. Elliot screamed, and it rang through Lucifer's ears like wind chimes. He let it carry him through the other side, and soon the skin of Elliot's back was lying on each side of his head. It really did look like he had wings.
     Elliot's back was too thin and worn for there to be any usable loin meat. A missing chunk of the loin would be more noticeable to forensics anyway. Luckily for him, Lucifer could see his prize underneath the base of the left wing. Elliot's shoulders were the strongest part of his body; they needed to be, the way he lifted bodies and rigged his scenes. There was good, lean meat under there, and in the current position Lucifer could access most of it without trouble. Investigators were more likely to overlook shoulder damage, with the way Elliot was about to be hanging.
     This is for my love. He has to eat.
     "Just one more touch," he said, bringing the blade down to the inner shoulder. With Elliot's tormented shrieks filling the barn, he sawed out a good portion of the meat for him to use. It was pink and bloody and warm, and it fit nicely in his hands. He reached for the trash bag that contained Elliot's tools, dumping all of them onto the hay and then wrapping the meat inside of the bag. It would have to work.
     Elliot was beginning to fade in and out of consciousness as blood left him in waves. He mumbled incoherently, but Lucifer was able to make out a weak "thank you" among the blend of words. Lucifer leaned towards him on the ground, their faces close.
     "What do you see?" Lucifer asked softly. Is it light or dark? Heaven's endless sunshine or Hell's intruding blackness? He was curious as to what God would think of this man.
     "...I..there is...light," Elliot replied, his voice groggy and nearly gone. "Light."
     He's going to Heaven. Interesting. It was times like these that he wished he could speak to his lost Soulmate once more, ask Him important questions. Elliot was a sinful man; what could bypass that? Was it his religious devotion? His overarching intention to help the people he killed? No matter what, Elliot was going to be happy in Paradise. He knew that much.
     "Go to it, Elliot," he told him. "Go."
     The corner of Elliot's mouth twitched a miniscule amount, the only kind of smile he could muster. The awareness drained from his eyes, and his body fell slack. His stare was cold and dead.
     Now, to move it.
     Lucifer cursed his useless wings as he gazed up at the rafters. He could fly in short bursts, but he wasn't overly confident in himself to hang the body from the top while handling all of the effort. Curious to try, he bent his knees and let himself leave the ground, flapping his wings as hard as he could. He could push himself up for one stroke of the wings, but on the second they gave out on him. He tumbled to the ground, unhurt but embarrassed.
     So that was out. The next option was to hang him from the very back of the barn, using the ladder up to a platform by the rafters. He walked over to the rope that hung from the wall and slung the loop over one of his antlers.
     Elliot was depressingly light. His treatments had taken all of the weight from him, whittled away at him until he was merely skin and bones. Lucifer threw the body over his shoulder and climbed the ladder up to the platform. The wood creaked with Elliot's weight as Lucifer carried him up.
     There was a set of beams not far from him, thick enough to hold up. Lucifer hoisted the body up by the armpits and lay the arms horizontally across the beams. Quickly, in case one of them were to fall, he took the rope from his antlers and used the knife to cut the rope into usable strands. He secured the hands to the beams, and then he took the large flaps of skin and tucked the tips into the knots so they remained upright.
     Elliot hung from the sky with his wings spread. Lucifer smiled, satisfied.
     He jumped from the platform and landed gracefully on the ground, disturbing nothing. The light dissipated, revealing his human body once more. He picked up the meat and put it in his jacket pocket; he would probably have to throw that suit out anyway, given the massive amounts of blood on it.
     Will was out cold. He was breathing, but he hardly stirred. His lips were pale, and his skin was freezing. Hannibal scooped him up like a child, cradling Will's head to his chest, and carried him to the car. He set Will into the passenger seat.
     "Hm.." Being jostled around woke Will up, and he slowly began to open his eyes. Goodness, he was so beautiful.
     "Will, you're alright," Hannibal reassured him. "We're going to my home."
     "Okay," he slurred in reply, "I'll drive." He moved his arms, his limbs lead-heavy, and Hannibal immediately went to push him back down in the seat, chuckling.
     "You're not driving, Will. Don't be ridiculous."
     "But..but I have to do something." He frowned.
     Hannibal softened. Will was always so desperate to help; he could never stand by and let someone else take care of things. "There is something you can do for me," Lucifer told him, leaning closer. "You can close your eyes and let me figure this out."
     Will was picking at his fingers. Hannibal reached for Will's hands and held them gently. "I am going to take care of you," he promised. "You don't have to worry about anything other than resting, okay? Just lay your head back and rest for me."
     "I can't--"
     "I am going to take care of you." He made the words more stern this time. "Can you trust me to do that?"
     After a moment's pause, absorbing the words, Will nodded. He sighed, leaning back against the headrest and closing his eyes. He was clearly exhausted.
     Hannibal shut the door as quietly as he could and got into the driver's seat. He felt comforted as he drove the car, knowing that Will's hands had been everywhere his were. He felt invisible imprints on the gear shift, the steering wheel. He turned the heat on, and Will's shivering eventually stopped.
     It began to rain outside. Will slept through it.