Stolen Heaven
part 4

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against...the powers of 
this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realm.
                --Ephesians 6:12

        "So, are you finally going to tell us what's going on?" Alex asked as 
Sloan sat down at one of the computer terminals and logged onto the Legacy Data 
Network. Nick perched on the top of a counter and studied the Legacy leader, 
then looked over at Alex and Philip.
        "Derek will be down in a few minutes," Sloan answered distractedly as he 
keyed in a file search. Once the computer was working on his request, he sat 
back in the chair and looked up. "Once everyone is here, we'll explain."
        "What's all th' secrecy about, anyway?" Philip asked, uncomfortable 
because he knew it had to be something involving Derek. Some of the things Derek 
had said -- or more accurately, the *way* he had said them -- worried him. And 
Nick knew about it, but wasn't saying anything, giving the excuse that it wasn't 
his place to do so.
        "I don't like this," Alex commented.
        Nick sighed and looked up at the monitor, seeing the beginning results 
of the file search. _Derek had better get here soon,_ he thought. _I don't like 
keeping things from my friends. Besides, I want it from *him* that everything's 
sorted out between him and Sloan..._
        Philip looked up at the screen and frowned, seeing the partial list of 
files and documents that was the result of Sloan's search. "The Book of Enoch? 
'Fallen Angels...and Spirits of the Dark'?" When files under the headings of 
'Legacy Journal -- Rayne, Winston' and 'Legacy Journal -- Boyle, Jonathan' 
popped up on the list he added, "What *is* this all about, Sloan? We know all 
'bout th' fallen angels already..." 
        "Perhaps not as much as we should," Derek said as he entered the control 
room. Everyone turned to look at him, and Nick jumped off the counter and moved 
closer to Sloan. Derek saw this and caught his eye, then shook his head and 
said, "Everything is okay, Nick." Nick nodded then, and almost imperceptibly 
relaxed, and Sloan let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
        "I brought some of the journals we have here," Derek said, putting a 
stack of books down on the counter Nick had vacated. "I don't think they're all 
in your file, William."
        "Derek, please tell us what's going on," Alex requested.
        Derek nodded and said, "I'm sorry about all of the mystery. William 
brought some news that I was -- surprised and a little upset by. I needed time 
to -- assimilate it before I shared it." He opened one of the journals and 
looked at it for a moment, paging through until he came to a certain passage.
        "William brought me news that Nick's father had been researching 
something regarding my family. I'm afraid it isn't exactly the best news -- at 
least, not for us. I'm sure there are those who would be more than happy to 
learn about this -- if they don't already know." He looked down again, thinking 
not for the first time that Jonathan Boyle's handwriting looked far more like an 
odd variation of cuneiform than any kind of modern alphabet. 
        "In his journal, Jonathan Boyle wrote, 'After digging into the old 
journals kept in the Archive in London, I'm even more convinced that the only 
interpretation possible is that the Raynes are decendants of the Nephilim. 
Winston always said that there was something in his family that was drawn to the 
occult -- from the attention the fallen angels paid them, seeming almost to 
court them; and even from the circumstances surrounding Winston's own death, 
that must be it. I only hope that Derek is safe from their influence while he is 
away from the Legacy,'" Derek read, not pausing despite the gasp he heard from 
Alex and the quietly muttered prayer from Philip.
        "So, you see I have the blood of fallen angels in my veins," Derek said, 
looking up from the book and seeing the shocked expressions on Alex's and 
Philip's faces.
        "It can't be," Alex said, stunned.
        "Actually, it can," Sloan answered, keying in commands to open one of 
the files. "I'm sure you are all familiar with the story of the Watchers, so I 
won't go over that. However, this is a list of the members of the Rayne family 
who have been Legacy members." He indicated with a pointer the name ten 
generations back from Derek and continued, "This person, Lucas Rayne, was 
Precept of the Hamburg house when it turned. His wife was murdered by an enemy 
of the Legacy and in a fit of grief he made a pact with the dark side in order 
to exact his revenge. The being he made that pact with was Azazel, the leader of 
the Watchers."
        "The same one who killed Derek's father," Alex murmured, a chill running 
down her back.
        "Do y'have a record of th' pact?" Philip asked, almost afraid to hear 
the answer.
        "Of course," Sloan answered. He typed in more commands and the image of 
an old parchment appeared. "I won't read the whole translation, because I'd 
rather not have Azazel manifest right here in the control room, but take a look 
at this line here," he instructed, using the pointer to indicate a section of 
the document. "Derek?"
        Derek frowned as he looked at the old script, written in Dutch with a 
definite left-handed lean. "You don't want me to read even that much aloud, 
William," he said, a cold feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. He then 
looked around the room and met Philip's distressed gaze. "It refers to Azazel as 
'our honoured father' and 'the source of our strength.' I'm sure there are other 
interpretations that could be used, but..." He trailed off, shaking his head. 
"I'm afraid in conjunction with everything else, it's pretty damning evidence -- 
so to speak."
        Philip looked from the image of the document to Derek and unconsciously 
crossed himself.
        _Ah jeez, thanks for the vote of confidence, Philip,_ Nick thought as he 
caught the gesture out of the corner of his eye. "Derek, isn't it possible that 
my dad just jumped to the wrong conclusion?" he asked hopefully.
        "I don't think he did," Derek answered, looking up at the screen again. 
"There is no *conclusive* proof that I can find, but...I can't help feeling that 
he was right. So many little things..."
        "Like what?" Alex asked, also hoping that Nick was right.
        "Well...beyond the historical evidence, there are a number of things 
that have happened to me," Derek began. "For instance, that creature that 
pretended to be my son told me I was more like him than I could possibly know."
        "That could easily be something he -- it -- just said to rattle you, 
Derek," Alex argued.
        "Yes, it could. What about the fact that Azazel has had the chance to 
kill me twice now -- if he *really* wanted to, you know he would have. Our 
defenses aren't *that* great -- and instead the second time he just taunted me 
and left." Derek missed Sloan's look of annoyed curiosity when he mentioned 
that, continuing on before anyone could interrupt.
        "Add to that the fact that the 'daughters of man' the Watchers were 
involved with were the daughters of *Cain* -- remember the scroll? Harper was 
still under its curse -- it still considered *him* its owner -- and yet it 
affected me, too...
        "I doubt anyone's ever going to find any *conclusive* proof, unless we 
do an extensive blood analysis and turn up something strange," he concluded.
        Sloan cleared his throat and quietly keyed in some more commands, 
bringing up a medical file. "You mean like this, Derek?" he asked, pointing out 
a DNA map.
        "Beyond my DNA map I haven't the faintest idea what I'm looking at, 
William," Derek answered, peering at the screen. "Rachel's the one to show this 
to."
        "I don't have to -- I had our expert in London look it over. He told me 
that these markers here indicate some kind of anomaly he's never seen in *human* 
DNA before. I took the liberty of having our samples from your father and 
great-uncle analyzed with modern equipment, and they turned up with the same 
markers..." Sloan answered uncomfortably.
        "So now what?" Philip asked, still completely stunned.
        Derek closed the journal before him and opened one of his father's, 
paged through it absently while he thought. "We continue with our job," he 
finally answered, smiling apologetically at Philip.
        "Would it be possible for Rachel to take a look at the samples you've 
got, Mr. Sloan?" Alex asked quietly.
        "You don't trust our expert?" Sloan asked with a wry smile. Then, after 
a brief pause, "Of course she can -- it's always better to get a second opinion 
in...cases like this." He looked up at Derek and asked, "So, when is she due in, 
anyway?"
        "She'll be here tomorrow," Alex answered. "She said something about 
quality time with Kat."
        Sloan smiled at that and nodded. "Perfectly understandable," he said, 
knowing all too well how Legacy business had a way of straining family 
relationships. "So, I'll have the samples shipped by Legacy courier, and they 
should arrive tomorrow. Is that satisfactory?"
        Derek looked up and stared at him for a moment, realizing he'd missed 
part of the conversation, then nodded -- no one else was objecting, so Sloan 
hadn't proposed anything overly odd.
        "Derek, are you all right?" Sloan asked, noticing how pale he was again.
        "Uh...yes, William, I'm fine. I just...I guess it's been a bit of a 
shock," he explained. "Philip, we wanted you here because you might have a 
little more education in the area of angelic lore than the rest of us. I'd like 
you to see if you can find *anything* we can use to keep my...heritage from 
becoming a serious liability. That is if you don't mind," he added, thinking 
that from Philip's reaction he was possibly asking for too much.
        "I can't think of anythin' right off, but I'll be glad t' look," Philip 
said, realizing how disturbed Derek was by the whole situation. "If there's 
*anythin'*, I'll find it!"
        "Thank you, Philip," Derek said, looking down at the journal again. 
"Now, if it's all right with everyone else, I think I would like to have 
dinner."
        "That sounds good," Nick agreed. "Maybe we'll all think a little better 
when we're not starving."
                                   --==**==--
We fell like stars. We're falling still.
We shared the dark. We always will.
Who else but you could lead me to my heaven?

This was written on the wind
And it's useless to fight.
Will you be my fallen angel tonight?
                --Nan Knighton, "Marguerite"
                (from the Scarlet Pimpernel soundtrack)

        After dinner, Derek excused himself and requested that unless it was an 
emergency or someone discovered something useful, he didn't want to be 
disturbed. Sloan had given him a questioning glance, but he shook his head and 
emphasized that he needed time *by himself* to think.
        He locked himself in his bedroom and changed into his pajamas, then sat 
down to read through the journals he had pulled. Towards the back of his 
father's journal some of the pages had stuck together. When he peeled them apart 
he discovered the reason was a partially torn envelope flap that must have 
gotten damp in the humidity and glued them together. Carefully separating the 
envelope from the journal pages, he turned it over and looked at the neat 
handwriting addressing it to Winston Rayne, care of the Luna Foundation.
        Recognition sent a shock through him -- he would know that writing 
anywhere, having seen it numerous times grading his archaeology papers, in field 
notes, and occasionally in much more personal notes to him requesting private 
meetings after class... _Arkadi!_ he thought, swallowing reflexively as his 
throat went dry, _Why the hell did he try to write to my father?_
        With trembling fingers, he opened the envelope, realizing now that it 
was stiffer than it would be if it held only a letter. He slid the contents out 
onto the journal, his heart skipping a beat when he saw an edge of a photograph 
peeking out from a folded piece of letterhead.
        _Oh my gott..._ He carefully unfolded the letter, noting as he did so 
that the letterhead was from the undergraduate archaeology department that 
Arkadi had taught in. The letter was dated shortly after they had become more 
than teacher and student, and the contents of it were gloating taunts about how 
Derek's father had lost him. Derek smiled humourlessly, thinking about how his 
father obviously had never seen the letter since he had died four years before 
the events mentioned in it transpired. Perhaps the instinct that told him not to 
mention his father's death to Arkadi had been correct, he reflected. After all, 
what kind of weapon would he have turned to if he had known this one had 
failed...
        And yet, someone had opened the envelope and stuffed it inside the 
journal, he realized, shivering as a chill ran down his back. _Jonathan? Sloan? 
Why did they..._ he thought, his mind racing. _Someone *knew*, and they didn't 
warn me!_
        He swallowed again, steeling his nerves. _No use putting it off any 
longer..._ he thought, turning the photos over and looking at them one by one. 
The first one was innocuous enough: just the two of them at a dig, covered in 
dust with Derek wearing a hat to shield his eyes from the desert sun. They were 
both grinning broadly and kneeling in front of some artifacts, Derek leaning 
against Arkadi slightly although it didn't look like anything more than 
comraderie and genuine happiness. Derek felt a sudden pang of sadness pierce him 
and he flipped the photo over rapidly, wishing he could make the memory go away 
as easily.
        The second photo, on the other hand... Derek felt himself blush as he 
looked at it. Judging by the uneven focus and the framing, it was one of the 
tripod-mounted, timer photos Arkadi had taken. He shook his head, wondering how 
he could have ever let himself believe that they were only for 'personal 
enjoyment' -- except that Arkadi himself was also visible, and as a teacher 
sleeping with a student, he had been at more risk than Derek ever was... He 
shook his head and put the photo down with the first one, trying to ignore the 
tingle he felt in his gut at the sight of him and Arkadi sixty-nining.
        The final one was obviously the most damning of the lot and had been 
part of a later set, when Arkadi had finally managed to talk him into allowing a 
friend into their sessions to take some very creative and erotic photographs... 
He shivered as he looked at the photo, memories -- and sensations -- flooding 
back to him, no matter how hard he tried to ignore them...

        ...All good things had to come to an end, and at the beginning of fall 
they returned from the dig and went back to the daily routine of classes.
        Except that Derek quite often spent time with Arkadi after the last 
class of the day, or on free evenings when neither of them had to prepare for 
the next day's classes.
        They were careful and managed to keep rumours and suspicions down to a 
minimum among the faculty, and true to his word, Arkadi never gave Derek's work 
any grade other than what it deserved. Of course, Derek, being much more driven 
and committed than most of his peers, always turned in excellent work and 
received outstanding grades. If it caused any hostility towards him from his 
fellow students, he didn't really notice. By this point, he was more than 
accustomed to spending time by himself or in the company of people older than 
him and put little stock in the gossip and chatter of his classmates.
        Arkadi and Derek spent the next break back at the dig, mainly 
cataloguing finds and helping with analyses, and having nights of wild sex in 
Arkadi's tent. Arkadi was surprised at Derek's curiosity and adventurous nature, 
but was quite pleased with the younger man's willingness to indulge in the less 
mainstream activities. It was this willingness that had led to the photographs, 
which both of them found extremely arousing. It was also this willingness that 
led to their vacation the next summer in Amsterdam...
        Arkadi knew the reputation that Amsterdam held among certain circles and 
was ecstatic that Derek was the one who suggested a summer of decadence and 
debauchery in the numerous clubs and bars. His young lover was willing to try 
just about anything once, and thus one night they ended up in an S&M bar, Derek 
slightly drunk on *genever* and completely free of inhibitions.
        Derek sat close to Arkadi, leaning back against his shoulder and smiling 
as the older man's arm wrapped around his waist and a questing hand slid to his 
crotch, fondling him rudely in full view of anyone who happened to walk by. 
Arkadi turned to nuzzle the soft hair that framed Derek's face, gently nipped 
him along the jawline until Derek turned to face him. "You look like an angel," 
Arkadi murmured, bringing up his hands to stroke Derek's shoulder length hair, 
entangling his fingers in it and pulling Derek into a forceful kiss. Derek 
moaned and submitted to the kiss, feeling hunger sing along every nerve in his 
body.
        When they finally broke for air, Derek whispered, "An angel? Somehow, I 
doubt that..." and brought a hand up to finger the black leather collar Arkadi 
had given him for the occasion. He smiled again, this one lascivious and 
inviting, and Arkadi chuckled.
        "Your halo might be a little tarnished, but yes, an angel. You're 
beautiful..." Arkadi purred, tightening his grip on the sides of Derek's head. 
He smiled at Derek and whispered, "So, do you want to try what we discussed 
earlier?"
        Derek swallowed convulsively and asked, "You promise you'll stop if I 
ask you to?"
        "I promise -- it'll be exactly the way we discussed: if you can't handle 
something I'm doing, you say 'red' and I'll stop. If you want me to slow down or 
take it easy, you say 'yellow' -- and if you want more, you say 'green'. You 
think you can keep track of that if things get intense?"
        Derek tried to nod but Arkadi held his head immobile. He met the dark 
gaze, saw the lust in it and shivered, recognizing the older man's power. 
"Green," he whispered, knowing he'd done the right thing when Arkadi smiled and 
released him, then hooked an index finger through the D-ring on the collar and 
stood.
        "Come along, Derek, the room should be ready by now," he instructed, 
pulling Derek to his feet by his collar. Derek swallowed hard and followed 
Arkadi as they walked down a dark corridor towards the back of the club. Arkadi 
stopped in front of a door and knocked, and the door unlocked and quietly 
opened.
        Arkadi smiled darkly and ushered Derek in first, watching him carefully 
for any signs of hesitance or real fear.
        The first thing Derek saw as he entered the room was a bed -- with 
fur-lined restraints attached to the headboard by a sturdy chain. To one side of 
the bed was a nightstand which held a cup of water with a straw, a bowl of ice, 
and a lamp.
        Arkadi entered behind Derek, pleased to see him looking at the bed with 
curiosity and interest instead of fear. He turned to the man who had let them in 
and asked, "Are all the supplies in the nightstand?"
        "Yes, Sir," the man answered, stealing a look at Derek in his black 
t-shirt, jeans, and jacket. He smiled appreciatively, until he turned back and 
saw the cold fury in Arkadi's eyes. He ducked his head and said, "Everything's 
as you requested, Sir. If you need anything else, just ask."
        "If I need anything else, I'll let you know," Arkadi answered, his tone 
warning the man that trespassing would not be tolerated. The man nodded and left 
the room quickly, Arkadi locking the door behind him then turning to Derek. "Are 
you ready, my sweet angel?"
        Derek looked at the bed, then back at Arkadi and smiled. "So, what on 
earth is in the nightstand?"
        "You'll find out in due time," Arkadi purred. "Now remember, you are the 
student, I am the teacher. You will listen to my instructions and obey them, or 
the consequences will be dire..."
        "Yes, Sir," Derek answered, although he couldn't hide the slight smile 
which he suspected would eventually get him into trouble. "What do you want me 
to do, Sir?" he asked, seeing the anger fade from Arkadi's expression as he 
settled a little more into his role.
        "Out of the clothes," Arkadi ordered, watching with pleasure and growing 
hunger as Derek stripped without question, stretching and revealing his long, 
lean form. The lightly tanned skin was virtually unblemished, pale rosy gold 
stretched over beautifully sculpted limbs and darkening to a deeper rose shade 
at his lengthening cock and erect nipples. The black collar stood out in stark 
contrast to the light gold of Derek's skin, a very prominent mark of ownership 
that sent a thrill through Arkadi, especially when Derek reached up to caress 
the supple leather.
        "Do you like the collar, Derek?" he asked huskily, taking a step closer 
to his lover. Derek looked him in the eyes and nodded, his full lips parting 
slightly as he took a deep breath, something in Arkadi's expression sparking the 
first hint of nervousness in him.
        Arkadi smiled darkly and purred, "Good." Then he walked around the bed 
to the nightstand and instructed, "Get on the bed and lie still. If you behave, 
you'll be rewarded." He watched for a moment as Derek climbed onto the bed, then 
he opened the nightstand cabinet and withdrew a box roughly the size of a 
shoebox. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Derek, pleased to see the 
younger man obeying his directions; then he opened the box and selected an item 
from its contents.
        "This," he began, holding a black leather strap up for Derek to see, "is 
a cock-strap. It snaps around your cock and balls to keep the blood in your 
erection -- it shouldn't hurt unless I accidentally pinch your skin. Do you want 
me to put it on you?"
        Derek's eyes widened as Arkadi explained the implement to him -- he had 
seen pictures in magazines, and suddenly realized that some of the leather 
'wristbands' people wore might not have originally been intended as such. He 
smiled and whispered, "Green."
        "Very good," Arkadi purred, reaching down and stroking Derek's cock into 
full erection. He stopped just as Derek began to sigh, and carefully slid the 
soft leather band under his balls and snapped it closed around his erection. 
Then he took a tube of lubricant out of the box and put some on his hand, and 
gently stroked Derek's trapped erection. "Did I mention that it also keeps your 
skin from sliding across your cock and therefore intensifies the sensations when 
I touch it?"
        Derek gasped at his touch, his eyes going wide in surprise, and 
answered, "No, Sir, you didn't..."
        Arkadi smiled and said, "I apologize -- we don't want to neglect your 
lessons." Seeing Derek beginning to splay his legs, he lightened his touch to a 
gentle, teasing stroke, smiling as the younger man arched towards his hand. "And 
we also wouldn't want your lessons to be over before class is over, now would 
we?" he asked, moving away completely.
        "No, Sir," Derek answered breathily, wondering what would be next on the 
curriculum.
        "You like it when I fuck you, don't you?" Arkadi asked softly, looking 
into the box again and smiling.
        "Yes, Sir," Derek answered, unable to keep the curiosity out of his 
voice.
        "Then I think there's something you might like while we explore other 
areas," Arkadi said, selecting an item then putting the box down where Derek 
couldn't see into it. "This," he said, showing Derek the black rubber item, "is 
a butt plug. The flange here is to keep it in place," he explained, indicating 
the base of the plug where it went from a wide cone shape to a narrow neck, then 
back to a wider base. "That way it stays just where it should and keeps your ass 
nice and full. I think this one is just right for you..."
        Derek stared at the item, embarrassed by how aroused the sight of a 
piece of black rubber was making him. He could feel Arkadi responding to his 
arousal and realized just how much restraint his lover was exerting on himself 
to keep from jumping him right there. "Please, Sir," Derek whispered softly, 
licking his lips and swallowing when Arkadi opened the lubricant again and 
smeared some on his fingers and some more on the butt plug.
        "Roll over, Derek," Arkadi instructed, glad when he complied and the 
maddening sight of Derek's trapped erection was no longer visible. Derek 
squirmed on the bed, settling his cock and balls more comfortably; then spread 
his legs, already relaxed and hungry for Arkadi's fingers to prepare him. He 
moaned when Arkadi worked the first finger into him, pressing back to drive it 
deeper until Arkadi said, "Not so fast, lovely one," and gave him a little slap 
on his ass. The unexpected sting shocked Derek for an instant but rapidly faded 
into a warmth that spread to his groin. Arkadi had not missed the twitch of his 
sphincter at the instant of the slap, and wondered why they hadn't tried 
spanking -- or something more intense -- before...

To be continued in part 5

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.