Chapter One:
"Regard your soldiers as your children, and they will follow you into the deepest valleys; look on them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you even unto death."
There was never a doubt in his mind that he should have given his body over to Michael to wear. He knew the minute Castiel had yanked him out of Hell what was going to happen. He couldn't remember, in the beginning, how he knew what was going on. But then he saw those eyes – much too blue to be human – and he remembered. He remember Hell and everything that came with it, including Lucifer himself. So, when the Morning Star came to him in the still of the night, urging him to deny Michael, Dean did. He listened to the man who'd once been his boss, the man who made his life in Hell, not so Hellish. Lucifer had watched out for him, protected him from the advances of Allistar, ordered the lowly demon to train Dean.
Had he reflected on it in a clear state of mind, Dean might have realized that at the time, Lucifer had been molding him into a machine destined for torture – molding and shaping him into a beast of a man who no longer got squemish at the idea of torturing someone to get what he wanted. Perhaps he'd always known – perhaps he'd have been better off continuing to deny the advances of Allistar himself, without involving the Fallen Angel, but it was too late for What if's or What could have Beens. Now, though, he was staring down the chamber of his own gun, the Glock .40 cocked and ready. Sam stood behind the gun, eyes narrowed in suspicion and rage, but Dean couldn't quite bring himself to care.
He hadn't asked for things to turn out the way they had. He didn't want his brother to ever have to point a Pistol in his direction – not his baby brother, whom he'd protected with his very life, whom he'd have done anything to protect. He'd given the boy a way out once, many years ago. He'd let Sammy go his own way, follow his own path, start a new life away from the curse of being a Hunter. He'd wanted so much more for his baby brother. He'd wanted so, so much more. But in the end, you don't always get what you want. A Sam wasn't about to get to shoot Dean like he quite clearly wanted to. In the split second it took for Sam to readjust his grip on the Pistol, Dean dove forward, rocketing into the larger man's legs and throwing him off balance, and without waiting to see if the other was alright, Dean was out the door and half way down the street in Baby.
He didn't know where he was going, couldn't say he even really cared. But the bellowed shouts following him, curses spewing out of his precious baby brother's lips, Dean wished things could have been different. But they weren't, and he had to leave.
It wasn't until he was in Oregon, completely across the nation from where he and Sam had set out on a mission to rid the City of Miami of a rancid horde of Vampires, that he slowed down and stopped at a Diner. He didn't need to eat, of course, but he found himself settling into a booth and order his usual Cheeseburger and Black Coffee anyways. Moments later, he could feel the all too familiar presence of an Angel, and he prayed that it wasn't Castiel. Usually, Dean's not a very lucky guy, but when the all too familiar slop of pale locks came into view across the table from him, Dean relaxed. "How'd you get out," he inquired softly, focusing on the Cup o' Joe before him, clasped firmly in his hands. Lucifer's grin was small and cocky, a set of pearly white teeth just peeking out from his lips.
"Your death freed us," another voice chirped, soft and elegant as Dean remembered. His gaze flickered to the chair beside him, emerald orbs trailing over the slender, taned form of the other ArchAngel. For a moment, Dean had half a mind to up and leave the small Diner, but he didn't. Instead, he lifted his mug and took a long, deliberate sip.
"Dunno what you're talkin' about," he hummed from behind the mug, eyes tracking the every move either angel made.
"Oh please," Lucifer snorted, smiling charmingly at the waitress as he order himself and his elder brother their own coffees. "Save us from whatever shitty lie you have planned out. We know what you are Deanie-Boy. We know what's become of you." Dean could barely restrain himself then, his head bowing and eyes narrowing at the remaining black liquid in the mug. For a long moment no one spoke, the three lapsing into a silence so tense, the waitress stooped two feet away, eyes more like saucers than anything. Lucifer gave her that charming smile again and waved her away before his attention returned to Dean once more. "We're here to help, Dean."
Dean just sneered, shooting a glare at the Fallen Angel. "And why would I accept your help? This is both of your faults. If it wasn't for you two, I wouldn't be in this mess." The two brothers winced at the Hunter-turned-Demon's words, sharing a cautious glance. "And don't give me any of that shit about how it was Destiny and Fate and whatever else Bullshit you spew all the time." He slapped a few bills onto the table top and stood, sneering at both. "I know you're going to follow me anyways, but say one word and I'll find some way to kill you both, So help me God." He didn't bother for the irony in the statement, he merely stalked from the Diner and slid back behind Baby's wheel, knuckles white as the curled around the leather cover. Lucifer and Michael shared one final look before trailing after the Broken Soldier, both keeping their mouths shut… for now.
Hey guys, Sallian here. So, I'm not sure if I'll be continuing "A Soldier I will Be." I like it well enough, but I have no idea where I'm going with it. Anyways, if I do I'll update within the next few days. Other than that, I hope you enjoyed this little Prologue of sorts. Next chapter will be better, I hope anyways ;) Hope you enjoyed, please R&R!