Hi. I'm just trying out this thread for kicks and whistles. But, you know, if I don't get enough positive reviews, I may or may not abandon it. This'll be rated M later on for violence and blood and stuff, so I'm just putting it into that category ahead of time. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, any of its plotlines, or its characters. I just borrow.
Prologue
There was a time before God. Before Him, before the angels and the archangels, before even the Earth as many knew it, there was a different time. A different Earth. A different story. From this Earth, God parodied his own. He saw what had gone before him and created a new world above the forgotten Paradise. New mountains, rivers, and oceans covered the world that once was, improving upon its predecessor's might.
God modeled his children in the image of Old Earth's inhabitants. The old natives of the forgotten Earth were the angels' namesakes and their features were copied onto those of the Host. They were mighty, at one time nearly ruling all the planets that circled the nearest star, Sol, the sun. The namesakes of the angels were so powerful, they would've been able to single-handedly rival God Himself.
They were dragons.
Not the pathetic excuses for life forms that Eve's creations were. No, these were the true dragons, the majestic beasts that inspired God. The biggest of them were as colossal as mountains, and their true voices could shake the Earth that the dragons stood upon.
There was Gabriel, the dragon with scales that shone with bloody scarlet fire and were so sharp that they could cut nearly anything.
There was Virgil, the creature with shimmering, knifelike scales of steely silver, from which angel blades were carved.
Balthazar was a pale golden brown with barbed, needlelike scales. He'd had an equally prickly personality and suave attitude.
Lucifer once had shimmering bronze scales like the radiant hues of the sun, but after a great and nearly cataclysmic battle, the crescent scales were scorched with inky black. The only gold that had remained in him was in his cunning eyes.
Castiel, the youngest of the dragons, had been a brilliant, silver-flecked sky-blue. He'd had eyes the color of the sky streaked with wispy clouds.
They had been a noble race, full of fire and scales and righteous fury. God had taken the dragons' fire and used it as angel grace.
The dragons are still alive. They are waiting; some of them have been for millennia and still linger on the outskirts of existence even now. God gave the dragons a choice when he took over: be destroyed or become one with his creations. They chose to meld with humans.
Ever wonder why Michael and Lucifer's true vessels were forever destined to be Sam and Dean Winchester?
Ever wonder how Sam could hold Lucifer's essence without decomposing; how he succeeded when Nick failed?
Ever wonder how Dean could watch as pure angelic essence burst from Zachariah's body right into his unprotected eyes?
This is the story of what happened after the death of Bobby Singer.
Should I continue? Please give me some direction!