I ONLY OWN MY OWN STORIES AND IDEAS - NOT THE CATEGORIES

He had failed. The Antichrist had failed his only job in life to defeat Jesus Christ and his followers, and yet here he was: defeated at the tender age of 20. He did his best to ignore the scathing stares of the Angels surrounding him, and never let his shame show. His reddened eyes stared at the wooden floor that he hadn't expected in Heaven, almost trying to burn holes in them. The carpentry was absolutely lovely, he could admit that, but he had worse things to focus on.

"Damien: son of the Jackal, the Beast, the Bearer of Sin, Antichrist and the Messenger!" A booming, deep voice filled the ears of the man in question and made him internally groan. He knew everything that was about to be said, and he just wanting to get the sentencing over with so he could leave. "What an unfortunate hand you were dealt."

Damien's eyes widened in surprise, now focusing on his bare feet as the voice continued to speak. "Born into a fate you could not change, and where none who could help you could reach…" Damien refrained from rolling his shoulders – an old habit of his – as the words just kept pouring from the literal Man Upstairs. "So very human, aren't you?"

"Am I now?" Damien's voice was quiet, almost no sign of the powerful man he had been. "Why don't you get it over with? Send me down to burn for my sins?"

One of the Angels looked as if they were going to spit out some words, but the booming voice cut them off. "Because you would be wasted down there," the voice surprised him again, Damien's throat involuntarily tightening. "You have incredible potential, child, if you are given the right guidance,"

"I have already failed the only reason for my existence, and I am murderer." Damien wasn't sure if he was annoyed, angry, upset or all of them rolled into one bundle of emotions.

"Before me, I do not see the monster that men have made you. I do not see a vicious beast ready to strike at me, as any true servant of the Prince of Darkness would," the voice had gotten far soft, and Damien felt a strange warmth around him - despite the fact that he was a soul (quite literally) naked before the Lord. There were a few Angels who were beginning to look uncomfortable with their Saviour's enemy being around for so long, but Damien had yet to see them. "I see a lost child who has been misguided, a child whose guardian couldn't care less about him, and used him solely as a messenger who can be replaced. I see a boy who is, above all, human."

"But I'm not, am I?" Damien shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head slightly. "I have evil in my veins, and it has always guided me."

Damien didn't speak another word as the Angels around him suddenly vanished, walls and décor appearing around him as he fell to his knees; his arms shaking as he dug his nails into his kneecaps. He didn't know what was going on, but he just wanted it all to be over; he didn't want to sit here and be lectured by the Almighty.

"Perhaps if your form was still the Beast, I could believe in what you're trying to tell me. However, the Dark Prince himself made a terrible mistake: he made you in the image of the very entity he despises more than any other. Perhaps he hoped that you would be emotionless and vacant, and from birth be focused on gaining followers?" Damien felt a hand on his shoulder in a comforting manner, but he squeezed his eyes shut. "How could he expect such a thing from one so young? I can't ask him myself, sadly…"

"What do you want from me?" Damien's voice was beginning to crack, his body shaking. He refused to cry in from of the Lord (what kind of message would that send?) but every part of him wanted to believe what the Lord was saying. He didn't want to believe that no one actually cared, but yet he didn't know why. Perhaps he was far more human than he believed… No! No he couldn't. He was evil rising. He was chaos; he was supposed to destroy Jesus Christ! So now, why was the Almighty comforting him like he was a child who failed to catch a ball?

"I want you to know your truth, Damien." There was a long silence as the Antichrist absorbed everything he was hearing. It made no sense, and yet every bit of sense. "Do you know what truthfully runs through your veins?"

"Evil, as I said."

"No, Damien. Far from it," there was almost a chuckle in the disembodied voice. "My son had to create you, as I did with your counterpart," Damien winced at the memory of the battle. "So, what was the feared Satan before the rebellion?"

"An Angel…"

"His blood did not change too much, just twisted. So, I ask again, what runs through your veins?"

No answer came from the man, his back bending forward even more with his fingernails digging deeper into his fair skin. Black hair, sticking from sweat, shielded his eyes from view (although he doubted that literal God needed to see his face) as his brain tried to wrap around everything. He had Angelic blood in his veins, and yet why had he never thought of it? Why was he never given that option?

He had to numb himself to death; he'd been led and manipulated into believing all he was capable off was evil. Yet he had loved, mourned, grieved and had hope… Did none of that matter to anyone around him?

Damien swallowed a thick lump slowly, beads of blood dripping down his knees, until laughter filled the room. It was a quiet, chuckle-like sound as Damien dislodged his fingers from his delicate skin. "Well, that would explain why I'm so ravishingly handsome," shaking his head slightly in disbelief (he done a lot of that in his life), he admired the spiralling pattern in the wood. "If I understand you correctly, you're telling me I have Celestial blood?"

"Exactly," Damien practically felt the voice nod. "I want to give you a second chance."

"For Your sake, why?" Damien tilted his head to the left slightly with question, confused as to why the Lord would want to give his son's attempted murderer another chance.

"I believe you can be saved." Damien wanted to laugh at the thought. "You have good in you; it was there before those around you manipulated your fate." Damien's mind was drawn back to his earlier thoughts, but he tried not to let them consume him. He still had a reputation to try and uphold.

"I killed on my own free will,"

"No one with your fate has a free will," Damien stayed silent. "I can place you somewhere safe on Earth, to rest and to heal, and then you can be reborn: a form of reincarnation if you will. You will still be yourself – with all the memories of everything that has happened – but you will be given the choice of acting differently. This rebirth will allow you to use your celestial blood properly. Just because you are the Antichrist doesn't mean you have to act on it," the voice paused for a moment, giving Damien time to unjumble his thoughts. "I couldn't save my son – no matter how much I wanted to – but I can still save you."

"What if I fail?" Insecurity filled him, once again reminding Damien how human he actually was.

"You won't fail,"

Before Damien could say another world, everything went white.

Waddup ma Unicorns!

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