Of First and Second
A/N: This may be considered offensive in some places, so if that's not your cup of tea, please exit the fanfic. Starts out angsty, ends kinda funny/fluffy. It's a father/son thing. I found it pretty entertaining to write. I hope you find it entertaining to read. I don't own the Bible. Why would I? I'll let you figure out what first and second is ;)
By: C L-K
Two people stood in a barren land. The first had eyes of fire and scorching hate, not to mention the excruciating pain swirling within their depths. In his hands lay a key, a large, bronze key the length of his arms, an artifact hidden from the affects of time in its own right. It glinted a sort of brown in the sun. The other had eyes of water and patience, mirth, and the crystalline purity of love.
"Back off," began the second, gazing at the first with a determination that matched his own flames.
The first said in mocking tone, "Why should I back off? What have they done for me?"
"It's what they haven't done to you. Some advertently or inadvertently give you their souls to you. And for what? Money, greed, power. . . . . . . .but the rest of them know better. They know better than you."
"It does not matter," sneered the first, "whether they know better. Have they done better? Look at you. Second. Near to last in their lives. It is where you should be."
The second's face stayed in the same expression as it had been searching deep into the first's eyes.
"I love them regardless."
"And they don't love you as much as you love them."
"Just as well." replied the second.
The first tsked at the second and shook his head. The second, he decided, was a fool. A bumbling, simpering, old spirit that should be ground under his heels and spat on. The first glared at the second, thinking: 'How dare he talk to me like this. . .'
How dare he, thought the second, how dare he come to me saying the same words he had said millions and millions of years ago, before the earth born?
"You hypocrite!" spat the first.
"Me? Hypocrite?" said the second, and his eyebrow quirked.
"You Love them? Bullshit! You lying, cheating, terrible—"
"Now, now—"
"Shut up! You can't fool me, you bastard!"
"You believe I am lying to you?" asked the second. His tone was like a calming stream, rushing and growing into a peaceful sea. The second was convinced from the get-go the first was just having some sort of tantrum.
"I know so. I know you are."
"That is utterly foolish of you. All of it is foolish. I love them. You will not touch my children. You, who had been my child once before."
The first was silent for a moment. The second had shook him, but he did not want him to know how much. He suddenly clutched the key close to his chest.
"There was a reason why I separated from you."
"Yes. Your Pride. Even then you were behaving foolishly—" and the first swung the key at the second's face, but the blow did not connect because the second caught the key in his hand.
"I am no fool!" the first growled.
"I know you are not, but your actions. . . they tell me otherwise. . ."
"Bah! Who are you to say? You slaughtered your own children more than once."
"I love them regardless, as I have said before. You will not touch my children." he let go of the key, and it clattered on the ground.
"My children's lives are theirs to live. They do what they wish. It is not easy to love them. Yet I always have. I sent my son to die for them. You cannot deny that."
"And the others? What of those who reject your Gift, your Forgiveness? What of the others who rot in the Abyss as we speak? You love them?"
"Yes." and that was all that needed to be said.
"And I?" asked the first, balling his fists until his palms bled.
"And you. Yes."
"Even I? Who rebelled against you? Who tried to dethrone you?"
"Yes. Always." the first noticed tears in the second's eyes, making them glazed and ocean-like, but not one of them fell. The second would not cry for him.
"Your love does not matter. We are enemies." said the first, pointing the key as a second, baring it like a weapon.
"And always will be, I suppose." said the second.
"You? Suppose? What bullshit!" snickered the first.
"I wish I could suppose. . . ." and the first was floored. Did he truly see a moment of weakness from his Maker and Adversary? No, the first thought, my eyes play tricks on me. But the first, deep down inside, was scared. This momentary lapse of character had his heart beating too fast inside his chest. There was nowhere for him to hide. He would be as bare as the second, raw with emotion, in mere moments. No!
"You were my child, my brightness, my Morningstar. What of you now, rebelling against your father for always?" the second scolded, shortly after composing himself.
"I was not a child, I was a slave. A slave to your thoughts and feelings and ideas. I will be a sheep no longer."
"A sheep? I thought you were a slave." The second chuckled lightly.
"Do not jest with me."
"You're right. Perhaps it is not the time to jest."
The first beamed somewhat.
"Ha! And still you are a child!" the second laughed. "Still eager for his father's attention."
The first heard this and scoffed loudly.
"Oh? Was it you who approached me? Or was it I who came to you?"
"I came to you only to gloat about my victory with your precious children. Their world is now mine."
"Firstly, their world is theirs; you just put your foot in it. And secondly, why gloat to me? Why not amongst your subjects?"
The first did not answer.
The second spread his arms wide and smiled just as brightly.
"Oh, my poor, neglected offspring. Now that you require my attention so much, you shall have it. Come to me, my son." The second cooed.
The first looked incredulously at the second. Was he trying to . . . . baby him?
Oh, hell, no!
"What the hell is your problem?" the first shouted disgustedly.
"My sweet child needs my love and attention. Who am I not to give it?"
"I need nothing from you!"
"Hush, now; it's okay, my precious gift. I shall come to you."
And suddenly the first was engulfed in the arms of the second and held so tightly, he couldn't move.
"Hush, hush, please. . . .Daddy's here; hush, hush—no. No hitting. NO." the second scolded him worse than a babe.
The first wanted to scream at his own humiliation. How could he be reduced to no more than a problematic child? How could he, prince of Darkness and Hell be downgraded into nothing less than some. . . . some toddler?
This time the first yelled, and kicked and screamed, flailing about in all directions, striking the second repeatedly until he did the one thing that would make a grown man hide him face in shame amongst his peers:
The second spanked his hand.
"Now, now. There will be no more of that. You hear me? No."
Suddenly the first and the second collided on the ground with the first's hands wrapped tightly around his throat, attempting to strangle the second. As the tables turned, the second swept the first into his arms and began to rock him gently.
The first, at this moment, was trapped in a moment of mortified, embarrassing silence.
Overwhelmed with the fact that the second actually had him in his arms, and was rocking him to sleep, the first began to cry.
"Aww, my poor baby! Be good, and Daddy will tell you a bedtime story!"
The first cried louder.
There were two onlookers witnessing this strange display of events on a conference screen.
"Now isn't that adorable!" exclaimed the Virgin Mary.
"Yes. However. . . . "
"What is it?" asked the Virgin Mary, looking at at her Son quizzically.
"I wouldn't want to be Lucifer when he wakes up."
The second held the first securely in his arms and sighed happily as the first snored.
"Yep," he commented, "Looks like he won't be messing with anyone for a long while.