Title: Darkness, Be My Light
Disclaimer: I own no Supernatural characters. My own original characters will be introduced in later chapters, so I do claim those.
Spoilers: Anything after Season 7 and some before. Let's just say the whole series, to be safe.
A/N: Well, this is the short prologue to a hopefully very long multiple chapter story that has been rattling around in my noggin for quite some time. I've not been too pleased with some of the recent changes in the show, so this is my way of rectifying them for my own gratification. And yours too, I'm sure. This was going to be longer, but I think it's a good start. Let me know what you think! Thanks!
Suppose this really is the end of everything. Suppose dark matter doesn't exist and that universes shift axes on an unspoken whim.
Here's the thing about darkness; black is the combination of all colors. White is the absence of all. So, is a black heart evil or just a heavy object waiting to be purged of wrong?
Existing in the place between Now and Nowhere, he contemplates these and other things. When else has he the time? Body turns to soul here, there is no "I", no "they", no "we". But "I" remember love.
No true son of God yearns for human emotion. His scions were made perfectly, fierce and bright warriors of the Word. Automatons. The first to question his upbringing was also the most beautiful. He begged a question, then another, and yet another until his open curiosity transformed into his downfall.
Angels are not meant to want, answers or otherwise. They were all given a choice, free will or eternal chains. A chance to experience or a lifetime clear of doubt. How can a child betray their parent? Why is innocence such an unwanted trait among the masses?
This one has seen the course of human history written and counted as grains of sand in an un-emptying hourglass. He has ridden the cosmos and traveled amongst the time lengths of light, yet he still fabricates stories about the stars for his friends. He remembers friends.
Every life begins with a choice. Your life, mine and theirs. To breathe or die. To come into this world screaming or silent.
No life ends with one.
His certainly is different. He didn't know if it was his own impulse or Jimmy's that led them into the reservoir that fateful day. Either way, the decision was made and he was done. Complete.
He remembers searching for forgiveness in someone's sea green eyes and finding only sorrow. Sorrow and something softer that he cannot find the word for. Askance? Confusion? Love? It could have been any of these. But the greatest of these is Love.
What does Betrayal feel like? How can a thousand regrets be expressed without sound?
Angels were never meant to be prideful, yet one called Zachariah preened over his four celestial faces. The most garish of which resembled a lion. Anael ripped her sacred Grace and recreated a mortal body for herself, all to escape the rigors of Heaven. She knew lust as her other fallen brothers had. Yet, they called him the disgraceful one?
In this interim, he is left to remember all that he ever was or has done. Over and over until it seems as if he has always been falling.
His memories are taken away, slate washed clean, then all the stories he has ever forgotten are re-written. This isn't a torture, however. It's a respite, however brief. The knitting of a soul takes time and effort. An erosion can only be cleared away, not washed clean. No matter how much water he has attempted to drown in.
Is it madness to pray for better hallucinations? He still prays.
Around and around, he lingers in these half spaces and vacuums of thought. The sensation of crashing into the earth never leaves. He supposes it is just, but cannot help but plead for respite. The road to hell and all…Were his intentions always good?
Judas gave his friend Jesus the kiss of friendship, dooming him to his end. The Savior knew this and forgave it in the same instant. Even the true Son of God understands the sudden sting of a turned cloak. Judas hung from a tree with regret in his heart. This one would have doled out a million apologies for his own friend. A little death in every kiss.
Is it too late for such things? Is time even a factor anymore? How is one to know? He is not allowed. It's a pain he is used to. A similar hurt facilitated the start of his fall.
So here he Is and here he's Not.
The veil lifts….light floods in, claiming all for its own, scouring his soul (his everything) with the sudden rushing force of bright blankness. A million celestial voices coalesce into one overwhelming, piercing sound.
A decision must be made...
OPEN.
YOUR.
EYES.
He awakes; an Old soul in a Young body. A blank slate in a New World with a million questions buried in its heart.
Only one escapes his lips.
"Who am I?"