Stating the Obvious: The following fanfic is a sequel to "Second Chances".
Disclaimer: I have no right over the Prophecy franchise, the movies, the characters and whatnot. Nor am I versed in the mythology of the movies as a whole.
Author's Note: This one was kind of slow to write but it was a hard day at work and it's especially hard to try to look over everything when I'm playing the homemaker. However, I like how things are piecing together. Lilith is slowly becoming my favorite character, though it's going to take time for she to get where she needs to be and, surprisingly, yeah, she'll end up with a more important role than I initially imagined her as. Go figure. To Pirate Lass, oh my gosh, I remember seeing that such a long time ago! Okay, maybe not that long of a time, but I don't remember the last time I saw it, just how awesome it was. I'd forgotten about Lilith there. To be honest, in my head, Lilith is this hardcore biker chick who puts up with no one's bull but still manages to do what she's told, in her own way, for more than just one reason. Hopefully, it'll become apparent here.
Chapter 5. Time to Save a Life
John is standing in what will be the center of the storm – this is where it will all begin – where it is calm and so unlike what he's used to.
He's wearing his most lethal attire, his suit and shades, signaling that he means only business.
"And so it begins." Behind him, a female voice speaks in a low voice – sultry, as always – but it no longer has any kind of effect on him. She takes a few steps closer to him until she's ahead of him, touching one of the pillars that surround the front porch of yet another house that will be claimed as part of his domain, even on earth.
Lilith turns her face, her suit slightly different than his – the color is the same, pure black, but she wears blood red heels and her inside shirt a darker red, her hair almost burning with the same color. She gives the look a slightly different feel which has always made her as dangerous as he is, almost.
"Mephistopheles is in place," she informs him blandly, but he can tell by her eyes that she wants to talk about something else entirely.
"Belial?" John doesn't smile, doesn't even give her the courtesy of meeting her eyes.
"He," she smiles, licking her lips, "declined. I enjoyed him after that."
Knowing Lilith, the punishment will probably cause Belial to be out for a few years – too bad.
"Beelzebub?" By the look on her face, he knows she's becoming somewhat aggravated – he knows where they are. He always knows. He feels them. But he wants to make sure she can, too. She needs to learn.
"En route." She sticks her hands in her pockets, eyebrow raised, "You know what I'm thinking."
"And it's still not enough to make blush," he manages with a serious face and, yes, it earns him a smirk, but she shakes her head.
"All right, then, fair point, I'm always thinking that, but it has been a very long, long time..." She sways her hips with every step until she's right in front of him, her fingers leaving burn marks on his neck. He doesn't flinch but stops her hand before it reaches the opening of his blouse.
She smiles wider, taking her hand back, "Which brings us to the matter at hand. The pretty one. Allison." His facial expression remains blank as she continues, "You could've lied."
He owes her no explanations, but he has placed himself in a position he never once anticipated. It's almost exciting, in a twisted and sadistic sort of way – his favorite. "She would've found her own way."
"Not in time to stop it," she mutters.
That brings forth a smile, "Allison may be resilient monkey, but I can assure you, even she will not stop what's coming."
Lilith furrows her eyebrows, a slight frown touching her face. She turns around, looking towards the horizon as she moves to lean on the pillar, "When I met you, I thought you were brilliant. You offered so much freedom, so much room to play and just...rebel. Feelings He never gave me, power He never offered, pleasures He never showed me." She looks over her shoulder, "Now...you've turned..."
He doesn't want the conversation to go that far, so he cuts her off. "Consider your words carefully, Lilith. Freedom, you may have but do not question me."
"So much for freedom," she mutters and they both smile-neither of them take offense; they're both old enough to know when they're being cross with each other and when they're just basking in the dry humor their honesty can bring.
"You're free to speak your mind, Lilith," his smile widens, "contesting my decisions, however…"
She chuckles, "Weren't you cast out for questioning and trying put yourself above Him?"
His lips thin, "Say your words, Lilith."
Her smile fades, "She means something to you. I can understand that. He," and John knows she doesn't mean God, "meant something for me, too, though that didn't end well…as we know. I see you walking down a path that will lead you further away from her, not closer, so my question is…what are you planning?"
He smiles, baring his teeth, "What do you see?"
All angels, even the fallen, have a precognitive ability to feel things. The future is always in flux. They see outcomes, possibilities, key events and the presence of very important elements – mortals – that can alter the course of an entire lifetime.
Allison had been – still is – one of those monkeys.
Lilith's face grows even more grim – even she doesn't like their odds – and they're too many variables now. Things were simpler when Allison didn't know – before Gabriel decided to make his move – but now…now there are too many decisions to be made.
"She will find him…" Her eyes become dark, focused. "Her first kill…she will find us…too soon…Lucifer," her eyes returns to normal, watching in disbelief. "You can't be serious."
He sees dust rising in the distance, a car heading in their direction – Beelzebub.
Let the games begin.
He takes a step forward, wearing his best non-menacing smile to greet their guest.
"That is just one outcome, Lilith. There are still other choices to be made."
Lilith scoffs, but assumes her position like a good little soldier, albeit a pissed off one. "No, she won't." She sighs, "When you bonded with her, I thought it was the most brilliant thing you've ever done. Foolproof, really, even if it was a bit impulsive and cruel. But this? This is wrong, Lucifer."
The car stops in front of them, with tinted windows, and he knows the conversation needs to end now. "Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment."
They both watch as Beelzebub, wearing a similar suit, blonde hair tied in a ponytail and wearing the same kind of shades, opens the passenger door and John is ready to embrace the woman who leaps into his arm – a woman that is not his Allison.
Joseph holds the gun in his hand – the last gun, the only one his sister didn't find and his partner didn't take away after he lost his job.
It was his wife's gun – a gift from him.
He stares into the barrel, his mind in a fog, his mouth dry – thirsty, after so much alcohol – and he thinks, no, not like this.
He cannot meet the end with her gun, but then how?
Allison is standing just outside the building – where John said she could find Joseph Blades – and she looks at the buzzers, scanning through each name until he finds him.
John's words resonate in her mind.
Why not let the world end?
Because it wouldn't end the way it's supposed to, she tells herself.
But how does she know how the world should end? She doesn't. Not really. But she knows John's way…it's not God's way. And that is the real battle inside of her. She wants John. She wants to be with him – all of him. She gave herself to him, in hell, completely. She doesn't know what she was thinking – to be truthful, she hadn't been thinking at all – she had been feeling too much; his gaze, his touch, his desperation, every other emotion had stirred up something inside of her…and she couldn't keep it from pouring out.
And yet, it's still not enough. She can't turn away from what she is – what she isn't – and who she'll always be.
She raises her hand, ready to ring the buzzer, when someone opens the door from the inside and she freezes, glancing in that direction.
She doesn't recognize the man, but she knows the feeling, and she watches as he walks away, her voice trapped in her throat.
Long dark coat.
John wouldn't, she thinks – hopes.
She runs up the stairs, all the way to the third floor, and she turns in a circle, trying to find the direction of apartment 3D.
She turns left, noticing the C and the D is not too far off, the door closed. Her new life has granted her many things and she can sense it – death.
"No, no, no!" She does not know where she finds the strength – or that she even had it all this time – but she slams the side of her body, full force, on the door until the hinges break off.
The first thing she sees is a man hanging from a rope by the neck, and a chair on the floor nearby. She drags the chair towards him, almost jumping on it as soon as it's off the floor, and she pulls her knife from the sheath, standing on her tiptoes to cut the rope while pulling him against her.
She starts using the blade to cut through – it's sharp enough and does not take too long – but as soon as it snaps, she starts to feel gravity pulling her back and she breaks his fall perfectly. The pain shoots up her spine and neck, making her swear under her breath. She sets herself right, trying to ignore the pain as she pushes him off her, letting him lie on his back and she loosens the noose, leaning her ear towards his face.
How long ago did it happen?
She doesn't have time to think.
She kneels next to him, trying to remember the CPR she had taken, one life ago.
Between the compressions and the breathing, she's starting to lose hope in this man – a man she doesn't know, doesn't owe anything to, yet needs to have alive.
Her lips touch his again, and his hand moves to shove her off, as he gasps and coughs a smoker's cough, raspy and dry, turning to his side until he's facedown, forehead meeting the floor. Allison sits, her side resting on an armchair and she covers her mouth, watching as the man who just tried to kill himself tries to breathe back life into his lungs.
She had never saved a life. On the contrary, her life had been surrounded by death. Her parents, Father Constantin, Maria, Danny, Dylan, then her second set of parents…and now, she has finally saved someone.
He's breathing steadier now, his hands closed into fists, and he pushes himself up into a seating position, looking like a mess. His eyes are not something she had expected, crystal blue and cold. He looks extremely pissed off.
The next words out of his mouth are not what she'd been expecting from the first person whose life she just saved. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
After thought: Unsure of how long it'll take for this to conclude...but it's starting to drive me nuts. Especially John. He's keeping things from me...I know something of what he's planning, but not all, and well, as the one writing this...that does not bode well. Sigh.