I. The Creator
I didn't believe much in fate anymore. The world always kept turning, life continued on, and nothing was ever set totally in stone unless you fought every day to make is so.
Though, something called me to the apex of destruction, the very center of a slaughter so big, that never in all my years had I witnessed something so absolute. Bodies stacked on top of each other, careening towards the skies burning orange and red, pillars to humanity lost. The dead lay on the ground, stretched as far back as the eye could see.
With each step, the heel of my boot dug into flesh. The smell, a horrible fume reeking of toxicity and the air so barren that it warmed my skin like the breath of death. All around me was the biggest temptation that had ever crossed my path. It stained the ground, stained the skin of the Earth, all thanks to the hellfire below.
The evil though, was vanquished from the Earth once more. God had won, like all the stories before. As sin ravaged his land and all the things he created, his fallen sons turning brother against brother, famine pushing through the very fields he blessed, a line of war streaking through his beautiful masterpiece. Now his abandoned children, the wingless, defaced angels of burning wrath were once again sealed far below by his own hand.
A sound broke out like a gunshot in a quiet field. Like a distressed animal, the noise rose and fell pathetically. Whatever poor creature was uttering, it would meet its maker soon enough anyway. Something white brushed past my cheek, little brown seeds attached to spinning white, fuzzy flowers. Holding out my hand, the somber little dandelion danced across my palm before the wind swept it away.
Soon a fresh rain would come forth and try to wash away the dirt of the Earth, to scourge it clean of all the toxins that polluted it. New life would spring up and things would go back as it was, as it always had. It just simply was.
"Help…me." the hoarse, guttural plea nothing more than a whisper on a dying man's lips, but to my ears, it sounded in perfect clarity.
Moving aside bodies of the fallen, buried in their midst, was a man. Stubble covered his defined cheeks, a mouth reminiscent of the historic statues residing in Greece, but his eyes were what captivated me most. They were mossy depths, teeming with a life that was slipping by. I had seen many people die, but this death would be monumental. The blood that smeared his neck and soaked through his plaid button down were luminescent, glowing with a heavenly touch. This was heaven's chosen, who was strong enough to overcome Lucifer, but not without a heavy price to pay.
Lying my hand on his cheek, his skin radiated a warmth that even death would not take until heaven's energy seeped out of him and back into the ground. He leaned into my touch, the sound of his breathing growing fainter with every second that passed before us.
"Are you here…to take me to heaven?" the man asked.
"No. I'm not. Nor hell either. If you close your eyes time will pass quicker." I told him, sliding my hand down the expanse of his chest. His heart beat a dull drone, hitting the end of its drum roll. For most, time was not infinite, it did not last long at all before it was gone in the blink of an eye.
"Sammy…where is he. I can't die until I make sure he's okay, goddamit." Despite the pain, he tried to set himself up in a sitting position.
"If you don't want to die, I could help you." I said, it was within my ability. Despite the fact that I had never done it before, I did not retract my offer.
"Please. Help me." he collapsed back onto the casualties of the war, his eyes trained on me.
"You must know of my kind." Lips parting, I slid my tongue over the length of the protruding fangs. A thing of necessity. For hunting, for puncturing skin, and for protection they all our kind well enough to be our main staple. Even though his life was slipping away from him, he was retrospective as he weighed his options. Feebly grasping for me, through grit teeth, he commanded me to do it.
Moving from in front of him, I sat at his side. I felt no fear from coming from him, his body lie perfectly still. If not for the faint catch of breath in his throat, I would have almost suspected that he had left me. Pulling his shirt to the side, I pressed my lips against his heart beat. A Creator's Kiss, a promise of protection and guidance. After the vow was made, lips coasted to the main artery in his neck. It's pulsating slowing to a near halt, it was precious how vulnerable and fragile life was.
Sinking my teeth into him, I pulled my first taste of his blood. It was a cocktail of life; Pain, suffering, love, loss, happiness, fear, ecstasy, and joy filled his life blood. Like fine aged wine, it could become a drug of great addiction. Killing you to be without but eventually driving you to the brink of sanity to keep it. Blood taken from the dying was at its most potent. Closing my eyes, I succumbed to the nature of the blood.
His life unfurled as his blood ran over my tongue. I saw a brother he called Sammy, the bond that the two of them shared. There was strength and comfort he took from him, tethering them together for the rest of their lives. There were lots of women, his skin against theirs, blackly exciting scenarios that always ended in a painful need of a warmth to start from the inside that never quite made it that far. All the pain that his eyes had ever seen, all the breaking his heart was doing, was coursing through me.
When his thoughts left me, my body felt perfect. My memories seemed lackluster, not saturated in the same colors that this man, Dean Winchester, had. A strong man with a resolve fashioned from steel, a man of complexity that I didn't quite understand. I couldn't part with the nagging sensation of how beautiful he was. Nothing more than a compassionate man with his flaws, forged into so many forces into his life to be something other than who he would have been on his own.
He was a ruthless hunter for his father, a man that couldn't give him the time of day. He couldn't give him the love and attention that he so desperately craved. Heaven choosing him to be the holy vessel, with him, body and soul, protecting everything and everyone. Who protected Dean Winchester? Who gave him a choice in the matter? No one.
HIs teeth were clenched together tightly, sucking in his lower lip between them. Blood dripped down onto his chin. Whether it was directly caused by all his emotions entering me at once, but for the first time in ages, my own emotions surfaced. Cradling his face in my hands, I gingerly dabbed the blood away. Sweeping my thumb across his bottom lip, I caressed the soft skin, gently commanding him to open.
The concept of time meant nothing to me, but in his regards, we were running out of the precious little that he had. His jaw went slack, energy seeping from him, allowing me to be able to score my own wrist and guide it up to his mouth for him to drink. In the beginning, it was hard for him, choking him but as I bled more into him, he stopped fighting it.
Stroking his hair, his neck, and his face, I tried to sooth him, to give him some kind of piece of mind as I felt his body start to convulse. Trembling, his body fighting against a great storm inside him, I held him yet. Never had I ever created anyone like myself, born unto the world to walk it forever. A song came to mind, one pulled from deep in his memories, the melody easy to follow.
'" Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start, to make it better."
Tension that had over taken his body started to subside and I continued to sing as I heard him take his last breath. I could hear the blood stop pumping in his veins, and his heart's very last drum. His mortal passing was quick and without as much pain as her blood could block out. Like her hour glass, whose sand had stopped falling, his had too.