Stolen Heaven
by Penemuel

part 1

"He who fights with monsters might take care,
lest he thereby become a monster.
And if you gaze for long into an abyss,
the abyss gazes also into you."
                --Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche, "Beyond Good & Evil"

        William Sloan, Precept of London House and head of the Legacy itself 
pulled the younger man aside and whispered, "Nick, I really have to talk to you 
-- in private, if at all possible."
        Nick Boyle, ex-Navy SEAL and member of the San Francisco Legacy House 
stared at Sloan as if he'd made a lewd proposition, and asked "Why?"
        "Because," the Precept said in measured tones, "there are some things 
your father was researching that I think someone should know -- and you're the 
best candidate as far as I can tell."
        "Why me?" Nick asked, growing concerned but still annoyed.  It wasn't 
the first time Sloan had brought up the subject of his father, and it annoyed 
him every time.  He was pretty certain, in fact, that the Legacy leader did it 
just to bother him... "Wouldn't Derek be the better choice?" he asked, referring 
to his own Precept.
        "No, at this point I don't believe he would," Sloan answered, glancing 
over at the tall man studying an ancient mesopotamian artifact. He seemed 
oblivious to the discussion going on across the room from him as he turned the 
winged figurine over in his hand and looked at a tiny inscription on the back. 
"As a matter of fact, right now, he might be the worst choice."
        Nick glanced at him sharply and opened his mouth to argue, but something 
about the look in Sloan's eyes as he watched Derek woke a feeling of disquiet 
within him. "Okay," Nick agreed, part of him still reluctant to give Sloan any 
kind of help even though he knew that urge was immature at best. "Kitchen?"
        "If you wish -- a cup of coffee wouldn't be bad," Sloan agreed.
        "Good, you know where we keep it," Nick muttered, leading him out of the 
library. He missed the soft chuckle as Sloan overheard him.

        Nick poured coffee for the two of them and then sat in one of the 
window-ledge seats while Sloan stood, looking out across the water. "So, what's 
so important that my Dad forgot to tell me about it?"
        "He didn't forget, Nick," Sloan said sadly, "He was hoping that it 
wouldn't be necessary to pass the information on -- hoping that nothing would 
ever come of it. Unfortunately, it's looking more and more like that's not the 
case." He paused to sip at the coffee and take a deep breath, then he asked, 
"Have you ever wondered *why* so many dark things have taken such an interest in 
Derek?"
        "Well, I always thought it was because he's the biggest threat, being 
the one who leads us," Nick responded quickly as if Sloan had just asked a 
stupid question that anyone would know the answer to. Then he looked at the 
older man's expression again, seeing that odd mixture of sadness and fear. "But 
that's not it, is it..."
        "No, unfortunately it's not," Sloan responded, meeting Nick's worried 
gaze. "Tell me, Nick, what do you know about the fallen angels?"
        "Well, um... supposedly they fell because they were seduced by the 
'daughters of man' -- descendants of Cain if I remember right. They fathered 
children who were supposedly destroyed by the Flood. I think. You'd do better to 
ask Philip," he suggested, knowing there was more to it, but unable to remember 
the details. "I hate pop quizzes."
        Sloan smiled again, but it faded to a thoughtful frown far too quickly. 
"The group you're talking about were known as the 'Watchers' -- they were 
supposed to teach and guide mankind, but were seduced by them instead. They 
*did* teach them, however -- how to make weapons, how to wage war, about the 
medicinal powers of herbs, about perfumes, cosmetics, magick, and many other 
things. Their descendants were called the Nephilim, and were sometimes referred 
to as giants, although that may be a mis-translation. And they were not all 
killed in the Flood.
        "You might remember the name of the Watchers' leader: Azazel," Sloan 
said, watching Nick's reaction carefully.
        "The thing that killed Derek's father and nearly killed all of us," Nick 
murmured uncomfortably. He repressed a shudder as icy fingers traced their way 
up his spine. "So, what does this have to do with my father and Derek?"
        "You know that the Rayne family has been involved with the Legacy 
for...many years, right?" Sloan asked, watching the younger man carefully.
        "Yeah -- Derek said something about his father's journal mentioning 
they'd been connected to it for generations," Nick answered carefully, an 
ominous feeling settling over him. "Look, I'm not in the mood to play 20-
questions, so just tell me what it is."
        Sloan sighed and sat down next to him, studied his hands for a moment. 
"This isn't easy, Nick," he said quietly. He took a deep breath and looked up, 
then continued, "The Raynes have been members of the Legacy for at least ten 
generations, and have been feuding with the Arkadi family for at least that 
long. In the old journals in the Archives at London House, there's mention of an 
incident ten generations back where one of Derek's ancestors made a pact with a 
fallen angel to avenge the murder of his wife by a member of the Arkadi family 
-- it's possible that that event was the beginning of the feud."
        "My god..." Nick murmured softly. An ancestor of Derek's, siding with 
the darkness? Sloan *had* to be kidding...
        "No, Nick, I'm not making it up. If you want, later, you can use my ID 
to access the archive files and read it yourself," the older man said, his voice 
suddenly weary. "But that's not the worst of it."
        "How much worse can it *get*?!" Nick asked, a sick feeling twisting his 
insides.
        "The Sight has been carried fairly consistently through the Rayne family 
line -- some had more of it than others; Derek seems to have more of it than 
most of the past four or five generations. Some of the earlier ones were also 
sorcerers or witches to one degree or another." He paused, and Nick got the 
impression he was gathering his resolve, then he said, "From the wording of that 
pact, it's pretty certain that Azazel was the fallen angel it was made with. 
*And*, it's also pretty certain where the Rayne family's abilities came from in 
the first place.
        "Derek Rayne is a descendant of the Nephilim..."
        Nick stared at him for a long moment, unable to remember how to form 
words. Eventually he settled for shaking his head instead.
        "I'm sorry, Nick. I'm not making this up. I wish that I were..." Sloan 
said softly. "I care for him, too," he admitted, although Nick got the 
impression that he'd never hear Sloan say it within his hearing again, "and I 
don't want him hurt in any way."
        "Why did you tell me this?" Nick asked, his voice suddenly rough with 
emotion.
        "Because of all of the recent incidents -- including the creature that 
claimed to be Derek's son...even Angeline's attack on his sister. They're 
building up to something, and I don't know how much more of it he can take..."
        Nick stared at him as he ran through the recent events, knowing that 
Derek hadn't filed complete reports on all of them. He was uncomfortable with 
how much Sloan knew without their telling him, but right now that was the least 
of his concerns. "You *are* worried he's going to turn on the Legacy, aren't 
you!"
        "Nick, I've already told you far more about my personal feelings than I 
tell anyone, but Derek's *loyalty* is not my main concern here. Just as I said 
to Derek when his sister was abducted, I know he'll do the right thing. I just 
don't want him to *have* to."
        "Then what?" Nick asked, too worried to think his way through it.
        "He's worried that I'll kill myself rather than betray all of you," 
Derek's voice floated from the doorway. Nick and Sloan jumped, then looked up at 
him guiltily. "Yes, William, I heard it all."
        "Derek, I--"
        "Don't apologize. I'd suspected there was something -- my own father's 
journals weren't entirely clear, but they referred to the Rayne family's 
heritage and hinted at it enough to make me wonder." He stepped into the room 
and walked to them, then stared out across the water. "So, can I be trusted, or 
should I step down as Precept of this House?"
        "What?" Nick exclaimed, "No! I mean yes, I--shit." He turned to Sloan 
with a withering glance and muttered, "This is all *your* fault..."
        Sloan almost grinned, then said, "I think you're attributing far too 
much to this old man, Nick. Derek, don't be an idiot -- of course we can trust 
you, and don't you *dare* step down." This time he did smile, "Besides, if we're 
lucky, your heritage will actually work to our advantage."
        Derek raised an eyebrow and met his gaze, then said, "You're hoping I'll 
draw them to me so we can try to destroy them. William, you are a bastard. You 
have no idea what that kind of thing entails, or how difficult it is."
        "I've got some idea," Sloan answered softly, meeting Derek's gaze. "But 
we should discuss this later -- I think you two probably have a lot to talk 
about." He stood and nodded to Nick, then hurriedly left the kitchen.
        "So," Nick said uncomfortably, "Now what?"
        Derek sat down and rested his head in his hands, rubbing his temples as 
if he had a headache. "I'm sorry about this, Nick. You must think I've been 
hiding things again..."
        Nick looked at him, unnerved by his defeated posture and the sadness in 
his tone. "No, Derek, you said you didn't know -- I...I believe you when you say 
that. I think something like this you would have told us..."
        "Thank you," Derek whispered. "I'll have to let the others know -- 
something like this can't be hidden...William's being a little too lenient 
saying I'm not a danger to us."
        "'William' is planning on *using* you for bait!" Nick hissed, unable to 
hide his anger.
        Derek rubbed at his forehead and heaved a sigh, then whispered, "I don't 
know if I can do that. The risk involved..."
        Nick touched his shoulder and realized he was trembling; stood and 
helped him up. "Derek, you're in shock," he said softly, letting the taller man 
lean on him. "I'm going to get you up to your room & get you warm, *then* we can 
think about this mess." 
                                    --==**==--
How sweetly did they float upon the wings
Of silence through the empty-vaulted night
                --Milton, Comus

        Derek didn't speak as Nick helped him to his bedroom. The sudden pallor 
of his skin and unsteadiness of his movements nearly sent Nick to fetch Rachel 
in case her medical skills were needed. However, he didn't think that it would 
be a good idea to have Derek around a psychiatrist until after the initial shock 
of the revelation had worn off...if then.
        Just before he shut and locked the door, he overheard Sloan making some 
excuse for Derek's sudden absence, then the thick wooden door blocked out the 
sounds from the living room. He walked Derek to his bed and sat him down on the 
edge of it, then knelt to take Derek's shoes off.
        "Nick?" Derek asked softly, "What are you doing?"
        "Need to get you into bed and get you warm, Derek," Nick answered, 
standing and encouraging Derek to lie down and get under the comforter. Then he 
tugged off his own shoes, climbed in next to Derek and pulled the older man 
close.
        "It's gonna be okay," he soothed as he rubbed Derek's back and smoothed 
his hair. He felt the shivers begin as Derek snuggled against him.
        "No, it's not," Derek murmured against his neck. "There is good and evil 
in all of us, but this goes beyond that...I don't know how to fight it."
        "Derek, you've been fighting it successfully all your life; you just 
didn't *know* it until now," Nick pointed out, continuing to rub the tense back 
and shoulders. "And you know we'll help you -- you're not alone in your fight."
        Derek pulled back enough to look up at him, "I'm sorry, Nick...I'm just 
-- I don't know how to deal with this."
        "Maybe you shouldn't right now -- maybe it'd be better to let it all 
sink in and then think about it?" Nick suggested, pulling Derek close again.
        "Perhaps you're right," Derek murmured, feeling Nick's warmth starting 
to seep into him, banishing a little of the chill that gripped him.
        Nick felt the shivers begin to fade, felt Derek relaxing into his arms. 
He smiled and gently kissed Derek's brow, then when Derek looked up, he kissed a 
trail down to his lips. "Mmnnn...much better way to chase away the chills," Nick 
murmured against the full lips.
        Derek felt sudden heat chase the last of the chill away as Nick teased 
his lips open with his tongue and deepened the kiss. Part of him wanted -- more 
than anything -- to submit to Nick, but the old fears rose in him even as he let 
the younger man press him back on the bed and plunder his mouth. When Nick 
pulled back for air, he turned the tables on him, pushing him back against the 
pillows and pinning him gently.
        "Interesting way to bring someone out of shock," he said, smiling down 
at Nick as he panted.
        "It seems to work," Nick answered with a lewd grin. "We're both wearing 
too much, y'know..."
        "True. Shared body warmth works much better skin-to-skin," Derek replied 
with an answering smile. Somewhere in the back of his head a voice was telling 
him not to think about the last time he had been in desperate need of shared 
body warmth, soaking wet and freezing in the mountain air... _NO. There is no 
demon, I am with Nick!_
        Nick noticed the sudden distracted look in the hazel eyes and reached up 
to unbutton Derek's shirt in hopes of drawing him back to the here and now, away 
from whatever concerns were clamoring for attention. Derek jumped in surprise 
when Nick's fingers touched his skin, then he smiled and leaned into the caress.
        "I'm sorry, Nick," Derek murmured, sitting up and shrugging off his 
shirt then unbuckling his belt and unfastening his trousers.
        "That's okay," Nick answered, working to keep the concern out of his 
voice. He pulled off his sweatshirt and reached under the covers to strip off 
his jeans, watching Derek's lean form as he stood and slid off his trousers. 
"Nice," he commented, although he found his eyes drawn to the bullet scar on 
Derek's right breast. It was a constant reminder of how close they had come to 
losing everything... "Come back here before you get cold again," he said, 
forcing his mind away from painful events.
        Derek stripped off his briefs and climbed back into the bed, then 
murmured, "I don't know how much I'm really up to."
        Nick slid a hand down in the bed to grasp Derek's lengthening shaft and 
smiled. "I don't know, you seem pretty *up* to it to me..." He smiled as Derek 
moaned and moved against him. "Definitely *up* to it..."
        "You are rude, Nick," Derek said with a broad smile. He rolled to the 
side and pulled Nick against him, reveling in the feel of his lover's muscular 
body. "Gott..." he breathed as Nick began to pump his cock and nuzzle his neck.
        Nick could feel Derek relaxing into the pleasure, and part of him wanted 
so much to take advantage of that. However, he knew the moment he became the 
aggressor Derek would tense up again and that was the last thing he wanted right 
now... _One day..._ he thought.
        Derek moaned and caressed Nick, trying to reach everywhere he could 
while he was rapidly being rendered helpless by the pleasure. This was going to 
be over far too quickly for anything complicated, so he slid a hand down Nick's 
abdomen and grasped his erection, completing the circle.
        Soon their rhythms matched and the pleasure became overwhelming. Nick 
kissed Derek again, a deep, almost unrelenting kiss. A sudden spark shot through 
both of them as Nick felt Derek submitting to him without reservation, and that 
was all he needed. Suddenly he was arching in pleasure, jets of hot cum spurting 
between their bodies. Derek moaned around Nick's tongue and then his body 
responded in kind, helpless as the spasms of orgasm shook him.
        Nick returned to his senses first to find Derek lying semi-conscious in 
his arms. He kissed Derek gently and smiled when his eyes flickered open. "You 
okay?" he asked softly.
        "Yes..." Derek answered quietly, reaching up to stroke Nick's cheek. 
"That was..."
        "Yeah, it was," Nick said with a sly grin. "Y'know, there's a lot more I 
could do that'd make you feel good..."
        "I'm sure there is," Derek said, regaining his faculties rapidly now, 
"but I think right now it would be better if I thought about this...problem."
        "Derek, I--"
        "I can't run from this, Nick. I have the blood of fallen angels in my 
veins and if what William was saying about my Sight is true, then for all we 
know, I could be some kind of throwback. We *must* deal with this before the 
dark side learns that we know of it."
        "Exactly what do you think we should do?" Nick asked, sitting up 
slightly and pulling Derek into his arms. "It's not like we can separate out 
that part of you and banish it -- it's *part* of you!"
        "I don't know," Derek answered unhappily. "The only thing I do know is 
that I can't afford to lose control, in case I unleash something none of us can 
handle. I know William seems to think otherwise, but I *am* a danger to the 
Legacy. I know too much about it and its members, and if the other side gets 
that information, many people will be hurt -- or worse. I will *not* be 
responsible for that..."
        "Don't worry, Derek, we're here for you -- and like I said earlier, 
you've already been fighting it all of your life. Now you know about it, it 
might actually be easier to fight..." He trailed off, stroking Derek's hair, 
worried by the fact that the older man was shaking his head. "What?"
        "Oh, Nick...you don't realize how hard it actually is -- you know why 
the angels fell in the first place, don't you?"
        "Yeah, because they fell in love with the -- oh shit..." Nick looked at 
him and shook his head. "Is that why you--" He stopped himself abruptly, feeling 
Derek stiffen in his arms.
        "How could it be? I didn't know about this until today," Derek said 
uncomfortably, moving to sit up on his own. When he saw Nick trying to hide his 
distress he relaxed back against him. "But it may be something to be concerned 
about: whether my 'heritage' has affected the way I've been dealing with people 
all along."
        "You mean all of your past...acquaintances?" Nick asked with a sly grin, 
relieved to find that Derek was still willing to cuddle with him.
        "Ja," Derek answered, feeling himself blush. "I have no way to know if 
the dark side already knows, although with all of the recent attacks, I assume 
they must. If nothing else, Azazel probably told the rest of them..."
        "There's always one thing that might be on our side," Nick said softly, 
"If I remember correctly, there's some question as to whether the Watchers fell 
because of their -- appetites -- or because they taught humans forbidden 
knowledge. Maybe there's nothing to worry about..."
        "And I don't have any 'forbidden knowledge'?" Derek asked with a slight 
smirk.
        "Maybe it's forbidden by the Christian church, but I know after 
everything you've seen you're not strictly Christian..."
        "How could I be? There's no way to discount the things I've seen -- if I 
believe in one, I'd be a fool not to believe in all," Derek answered, thinking 
of the time they had laid a restless Egyptian princess' spirit to rest. He had 
seen Anubis as plain as day, and it hadn't been one of his own House in a 
mask...
        "So, since the evil-because-of-sex idea is Christian, too, maybe it's 
not really applicable," Nick said hopefully.
        "Perhaps..."
        "You're hopeless, Derek," Nick sighed. Then he leaned down and kissed 
the top of Derek's head and said, "I think we might want to call in the expert 
on this kind of stuff -- at least on the Christian part of it."
        "You want to call Philip in on this?"
        "He's had experience with angels and the like -- not that we haven't, 
but you know what I mean..." Nick shrugged and added, "Besides, I think he also 
should hear about this."
        "You're right, of course," Derek said reluctantly. "But right now, would 
you stay with me for a little bit? I don't really want to be alone..."
        "Of course I'll stay -- sometimes you ask the strangest questions."
        "Sorry..."
        Nick scooted back down in the bed and lay next to Derek, his arms 
wrapped protectively around the older man. As Derek slid into sleep, he allowed 
himself to wonder about the fragments of knowledge he had gained.
        For one thing, Derek was concerned that his many previous romantic 
encounters were related somehow to the fact that the Watchers had fallen because 
they were seduced by human women. _I guess it's possible,_ he thought, _although 
it seems more like he's just a man with a healthy libido. God knows *I* won't 
complain!_
        Then there was his refusal -- Nick corrected himself, more like his fear 
-- of losing control in an encounter. Was it because he was afraid that some 
evil within him would get free? _Doubtful -- as he pointed out, he didn't even 
know about this until today. But then again, he said his Dad hinted at the Rayne 
family's heritage -- maybe subconsciously he knew something was there?
        _But that doesn't really seem like it -- I'm starting to think someone 
hurt him, and if I ever find out who it was, I'm gonna hurt them!_
        Nick let that line of thought drop, wanting to keep his anger from 
interfering with Derek's sleep, and resumed gently rubbing the older man's back. 
Derek sighed softly and snuggled against him, for the moment sleeping 
peacefully. Nick hoped it lasted for more than a few minutes.
                                   --==**==--
To be continued in part 2

Poltergeist: The Legacy is (c) 1997 MGM/UA and Trilogy Entertainment. This story 
is not intended to infringe on these copyrights. Stolen Heaven is (c) 1997 
Penemuel