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The first time Oliver met Bartholomew, he couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d always thought that angels were a myth—no hunter he’d ever encountered had ever run into one or heard about someone else that had run into one. But there he was—an ethereal being that looked like he was trapped in the body of a sixteen-year-old, claiming he was the one that pulled Oliver out of Hell and restored him so he could serve Heaven.
Honestly, he couldn’t take him seriously as a warrior until he watched him and Eobard, his angel mentor, fight an entire hoard of demons by themselves. The first time he saw the righteous fury on Barry’s face (Bartholomew was just a mouthful to say all the time) as he pulled a demon off of Oliver’s sister, Thea and smote it, the hunter saw the avenging angel underneath the bright smiles and rambling.
The night that Barry and Eobard brought him to an old warehouse and asked him to pick up his knife, he could see the remorse in the young angel’s eyes.
“You can’t ask me to do this.” Oliver begged once Eobard gave them some privacy. “Please, Barry. The things I did in Hell…the torture…you just can’t.”
Barry stepped forward and laid a hand on his cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that he hadn’t been able to hold in. “I’m sorry, Oliver.” He replied gently. The thing is, he actually sounded it. “I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t have to. We need to know what Slade Wilson knows, and, as his prodigy, you know his tactics better than anyone. You’re our only chance to find out what he knows.”
Oliver shook his head and turned his back. He didn’t have a choice. No one in this situation had a choice. “When I go in there, you’re not going to like what comes out.”
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Oliver knew how to use a knife—Slade had made sure of that. He wondered if Slade had regretted that when he felt Malcolm Merlyn’s demon-killing knife dig into his skin. If he regretted teaching Oliver his skills now that they were all being used against him.
Somehow, the devil’s trap holding Slade broke, and the demon was loose, throwing Oliver against the wall by his throat. He laid into Oliver, breaking anything on the hunter he could get his hands on. Then, he leaned forward and whispered something. Something more painful than any punch could be.
After that, Barry had appeared, clearly shocked that the trap had failed, and had tried to take on Slade single-handed. But Slade was bigger and more ruthless than the young angel, and soon he was pinned to the wall much like Oliver had been, with Slade whispering a spell to send his grace back to Heaven. They both would’ve died had it not been for Thea, who had lied to him about not using her demon-given abilities but who had also killed Slade Wilson with little to no effort.
The next thing Oliver knew, he was in the hospital and Barry was sitting in the chair beside his bed, watching over him. Always watching over him. He noticed a few new marks and bruises on his face.
“You need to learn to make a fucking devil’s trap.” He growled as best he could. The angel smiled sadly and walked over to his side.
“I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have happened.” He whispered, averting his eyes in shame. Yeah, Barry was sorry. Oliver was sorry. Everyone was sorry, but that wasn’t going to do a hell of a lot of good to stop the apocalypse. “Eobard is dead.”
Oliver hadn’t been expecting that, especially the cold way Barry had told him. “He was betraying us.” The angel explained. “He was the one that broke the trap. He wanted you dead so that Lucifer could rise. He asked me to join him, but…I couldn’t. I couldn’t turn my back on my beliefs…on you.”
His eyes slid back up to Oliver, and there was so much faith behind those hazel eyes he knew he didn’t deserve. Not after what Slade had told him.
“Barry, Slade told me something.” He swallowed hard, knowing he had to ask, but scared of the answer. “He said that… I started the apocalypse. I broke the first seal in Hell, when I started torturing souls. Is it true? Did I start all this?”
The sorrow on Barry’s face was answer enough. Oliver let out a shaky breath and squeezed his eyes closed, but the people he tortured were branded behind his eyelids. A hand grabbed his, a thumb stroking the back of his hand.
“It’s not your fault, Oliver.” Barry sighed. “I was ordered to come to Hell and rescue you before you broke the seal. But, I didn’t get there fast enough. I wasn’t quick enough, and Slade Wilson broke you. And I have to live with that.”
The heartbroken tone that Barry had hurt Oliver, and he thought he’d never understand what the angel was feeling. Until Barry appeared in his dreams and asked to meet. Until he found out that Barry had been forcibly dragged from his vessel (apparently a young CSI named Bart Allen). When Barry returned, he was different.
“I serve Heaven,” he’d sneered when Oliver had asked why he’d wanted to meet, “not you. My superiors have made sure that I remember that.”
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The next time he saw Barry, he was begging for help. He and his friend, John Diggle, had locked Thea in their demon-proof panic room for a detox (she was drinking demon blood. Demon blood!).
“Thea is right.” Barry said, his face impassive. “What she and Malcolm Merlyn are doing could kill the Head of the Demon. But your sister could be lost forever if she gives in to the blood.”
Oliver let out a shaky breath. “Please, let me take her place. I will do whatever Heaven wants. Just spare Thea.”
Barry looked over Oliver’s face with blank eyes, and the hunter couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the angel. After a moment, he nodded. “Do you pledge yourself to God and all his angels in the service of Heaven?”
“I do.” Oliver pledged, willing to agree to anything as long as Thea was safe.
When the angel disappeared in a ruffle of feathers, a weight lifted from Oliver’s shoulders. It returned when Thea disappeared from the panic room.
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“If you leave with Merlyn…don’t ever come back….”
Oliver regretted the words the minute he said them, but he regretted them even more now that he was trapped in Heaven’s little prison. His favorite burgers and beer were out on the banquet in the center of the room, but he couldn’t bring himself to swallow any of it.
When Barry appeared, he looked on the angel with disdain. “So, when were you going to tell me that Heaven’s plan was to have Thea kill the Demon anyway?”
Barry hung his head. “They told you.”
“Yeah, your superiors told me when they zapped me here against my will. What’s going on, Barry? I thought I could trust you!”
“You can trust me, Oliver!” For a split second, the old Barry was back, his eyes filled to the brim with emotion. It was gone almost instantly, but Oliver knew he could get through. He stepped into Barry’s space, knowing that the angel didn’t understand the intimacy of their position, but needing to feel it himself.
“Barry, please help me save my sister.” He whispered, leaning to press their foreheads together. He almost thought he heard a sharp inhale from the angel at the closeness. “Please…”
“We’d be hunted.” Barry responded breathily. “Heaven would strike us down…they’d kill both of us…”
“Some things are worth dying for, Barry.” Oliver brought a hand to cup Barry’s cheek. “This is worth dying for.”
Barry closed his eyes, and, for a moment, Oliver thought he had him. But then, his hands were being pried away, and Barry was stepping away. “I can’t, Oliver…”
He disappeared in another flurry of feathers, and Oliver thought that was that. Until hours later, when he was being pinned to the wall by Barry’s body, his hand over the hunter’s mouth. The angel’s gaze was intense, and he laid his forehead against Oliver’s, mirroring their earlier position.
“You’re worth dying for.” Was all he said before he drew a knife out of Oliver’s jacket and sliced his forearm. Stepping back, he dipped his fingers into the blood pouring out from the slice and used it to draw a sigil that Oliver had never seen before on the wall beside him.
“Bartholomew!” He heard the angel that brought him shout. Barry glanced back worriedly, but didn’t stop. “What do you think—?”
With a shout, Barry brought his bloody hand down on the sigil, and the angel was violently thrown from the room. He grabbed Oliver by the arm and, suddenly, they were in Dig’s house. Oliver laughed, but Barry’s worried expression stayed the same. “You need to go stop Thea.” He said, shifting anxiously. “She can’t kill the Demon.”
Now, he was confused. “Why not? He’s going to break the last seal.”
“Killing him is the last seal, Oliver!” The angel exclaimed. “Heaven wants the apocalypse. I don’t know why, but they want Lucifer freed, and they have some sort of plan for you that they won’t tell me.”
Oliver reached for his hand, stalling the angel’s pacing. “What changed your mind?” He had to ask. “Why are you helping me?”
Barry’s watery eyes met Oliver’s, and now the hunter needed to know the answer. “Because…I need to protect you.” Barry replied like it was the most obvious thing. “Ever since I saw your soul in Hell, I knew. It was ripped, and broken, but it was still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. For the first time, I could see the beauty of my Father’s creations, and I knew that I would do anything to preserve it. I think…I think that I fell in love with it…with you.”
Oliver felt like his heart was going to explode from his chest. He stepped in towards the angel…when a bright light lit exploded through the windows of the room, accompanied by a shrill high-pitched screech.
“It’s Raphael, the archangel!” Barry shouted over the noise. “You go save Thea! I’ll hold them off—I’ll hold them all off!”
“Barry…” Oliver gasped, before stepping in and pulling Barry in so that their lips crashed together.
Kissing an angel was a lot like licking a nine-volt battery…which Oliver had only done once on a dare from Thea and been a terrible mistake. Kissing Barry, though, shocked Oliver through his body. It felt like every nerve in his body was alive. He pressed in deeper, like it was their last time—with what they were doing, it could have been.
When Oliver finally pulled away, Barry looked kiss drunk, his hair messy from where Oliver had dug his fingers in, his lips swollen and red, his eyes fluttering like he couldn’t believe it. It occurred to Oliver that it was probably Barry’s first kiss, but he didn’t think much on it. The angel snapped out of his stupor a second later and pressed his fingers to Oliver’s forehead.
Then, he was somewhere completely different, ready to take on Malcolm Merlyn and stop Thea from starting the apocalypse.